


The Way To You

by augustrain3



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augustrain3/pseuds/augustrain3
Summary: Alex Danvers is a conundrum. That's her first thought after their encounter.  The journey to each other from Maggie's POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think the show did Alex's POV of meeting and falling for Maggie so well, but I wanted to try telling things from Maggie's perspective and fill in all the in between moments we didn't see between them.

Alex Danvers is a conundrum. That's her first thought after their encounter. Maggie has always prided herself in her intuition, but the agent somehow evades her shrewdest detective skills. It's what Maggie keeps thinking as she walks away, turning back once she hits the squad car to see the woman heading off, arms crossed, all black suit and high heels clicking on the tarmac. Danvers exudes arrogance and condescension, and Maggie wonders who the hell she thinks she is. If it's just a big intimidating front. 

But Maggie isn't intimidated, she's intrigued. The truth is, Maggie doesn't meet too many other women in this line of work, and she's curious. Maggie doesn't quite know who she's dealing with, and it gets under her skin. So much so that hours later, back at the precinct, Maggie finds herself running a background on the agent.

She finds just a few simple stats. Alexandra Danvers, born July 7th, 1989, making her 27, young for a secret service agent, especially for one who seemed to be in charge. Born and raised in Midvale, she learns. Stanford grad, then enrolled for graduate studies at the University of National City, but no degree to go with it. After that, the trail sort of disappears. No job history, no addresses, but there wouldn't be. The government's pretty good about scrubbing their agents' records clean. 

Still, Maggie is disappointed that the trail ends there. Alex Danvers remains a mystery, but Maggie doesn't have time to dwell. She has an alien assassin on the loose, and she needs to hit the streets. 

—

It's three nights later, when Maggie is scoping out a lead at an abandoned warehouse, that their paths cross again. 

Alex Danvers bursts in, all black ops and heavy machinery, a crew of muscle behind her, but she's clearly the one calling the shots. There’s no more business suit, and she’s grasping what amounts to a handheld rocket launcher as easily as Maggie handles a glock.

 _Secret service, my ass,_ Maggie thinks, before letting Danvers know that she's not buying her cover. They face off again, sparring with words, but after Maggie departs, leaving the DEO to their futile search mission, she wonders if maybe she could teach this Alex Danvers a thing or two. 

—

She gets her chance the next night, and it's then that Maggie learns something else about Alex Danvers. She's feisty, hot-headed even. React now, think later. It’s enough to get a grown alien to cower, and Maggie starts wondering if maybe Danvers really is as tough as she acts. 

—

She finds out soon enough. The warehouse is dark and dank and smells of mold. Maggie's wrist are raw from the manila rope chafing her skin, and she's wondering how the fuck she's going to get out of this one when Supergirl drops in opposite Scorcher, and Maggie sees another figure moving stealthily towards her. 

Maggie wonders if she's maybe lost consciousness because the last person she ever expected is here to save her ass. 

Danvers reaches up to Maggie's bound wrists and releases her swiftly. A look passes between them, an unspoken acknowledgement, but it's no time for pleasantries before Scorcher whips them off their feet. Maggie lands roughly next to Alex, and they scramble to their feet again. A moment later when the coast looks clear, Danvers' pleading voice tells her to run. The thing that surprises Maggie next isn't that Alex charges straight in unarmed to fight. It's that there isn't a shred of fear in Alex Danvers eyes. 

And Maggie thinks, _Like hell she's leaving Alex behind._

—

Maggie pulls herself into the passenger seat of the unmarked black suburban Alex had arrived in. The dull ache in her clavicle becomes a searing pain when she reaches out to close the door, and she winces from the feeling. She looks out the window at her surroundings, trying to determine what grimy part of town that Inferian had dragged her too. 

"Factory district," Alex offers, answering Maggie's unspoken question. She's in the driver's seat, shifting the engine into gear.

Maggie nods in acknowledgement. "So how'd you find me?” 

Alex glances over at Maggie with a look of guilt. “I might have ruffled a few feathers at the bar," she says, biting her lip. 

Maggie smiles and releases a laugh, shaking her head as she looks over at Alex in amusement. “’Course you did. Firecracker aren't ya, Danvers?”

“They _may_ not let me back in there.”

Maggie smirks. “Don't worry. I'll handle that."

Maggie catches the edge of Alex's lips curl into a smile. Maggie readjusts herself in the leather seat and notices the patch of singed skin on her left shoulder.

"We should get that checked out," Alex tells her. 

"Oh this? It's just a scratch," Maggie replies with a nonchalant shrug. 

"Come on, I'll take you back to the DEO."

Maggie looks up with a glint of excitement in her eye. "You're shittin' me."

"No, why?"

"You're telling me they're gonna grant some city cop clearance to enter a top secret government agency to get a bandaid?" Maggie asks incredulously. 

Alex flashes Maggie a self-satisfied smirk. "Don't worry. I'll handle that."

—

Maggie sits across from Danvers in the medic bay. She had expected Alex to turn her over to an EMT, but Alex tends to Maggie herself, cleaning her burns and bandaging them. Maggie teases Danvers because that cold, arrogant woman she met on the airport tarmac just stuck her neck out for Maggie without hesitation. 

It's getting late, and Maggie knows she has somewhere to be, so she pulls on her leather jacket and says her farewells to Danvers. But her last thought as she's making her way out of the DEO headquarters is that even though she's never had a partner last more than a couple of months, maybe, just maybe, this thing they've got could actually work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you'll bear with me through the Maggie and her ex scenes. I wanted to explore that relationship and what broke them up. Promise there is Sanvers payoff.

Maggie is still feeling the rush of adrenaline from the night when she parks her Triumph Bonneville outside the tiny Italian joint. She checks her watch. Half past. She's late per usual. It's almost a ritual at this point, but Maggie is still surprised she didn't hear more complaints when she made the call. 

It's an unusually warm late fall evening. Maggie pulls off her helmet and notes the feeling of the warm air on her skin from this bout of Indian summer. Perfect night for a ride through the streets of National City, she thinks to herself before discarding the idea. That's what she used to do on nights like this when she needed the distraction. These days, she has a new one. A good one. 

Maggie spots Tara, long blonde locks and green eyes, at a small booth in the back, and smiles before making her way over.

“I’m so sorry. Crazy day," Maggie says, drawing Tara's attention and leaning in to give her a light kiss on the lips.

Tara smiles in return and motions to the wine in front of her. "I got a little impatient, so I ordered a bottle of red."

Maggie slides into the booth opposite her. "Pinot, the way to my heart."

Tara scoffs. "All this wooing and turns out that's all I needed?"

Maggie pours herself a glass and shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure I was doing the wooing."

Tara smirks. "That's what I let you think."

Maggie laughs, finally relaxing into the chair. "It's good to see you."

"I wasn't sure you'd make it," Tara replies. 

"Me either. But I'm glad I did," Maggie says as she eases out of her leather jacket, wincing from the ache in her collarbone. 

Tara notices her reaction and eyes the bandage on Maggie's left shoulder. "You okay?"

Maggie shakes her head dismissively. "It's nothing. Just got a little roughed up."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"I wish I could, but it's--"

"Classified, right," Tara replies with a tinge of something between disappointment and annoyance. 

"It's just boring cop stuff." What was Maggie supposed to say? She got kidnapped by an vengeful alien who can shoot fire, and that Alex Danvers, of the DEO, an undercover alien hunting agency, and her sidekick, Supergirl, saved her life? It would just make Tara worry. It wasn't worth the trouble. 

"It's _you_ stuff," Tara insists. "I don't find it boring."

Maggie shrugs off her request, changing the conversation. "How was your day?"

"Not bad. The kids are going crazy with Halloween coming up. It's like a bunch of werewolves when the full moon is coming. Can't get them to focus."

"Werewolves, huh? And I thought my job was hard," Maggie jokes.

Tara smiles as the waitress comes by to take their order. After, Maggie reaches her hand across the table and intertwines their fingers. 

It's only been three months, but it's already the longest stint Maggie has had with someone in a while. And it seems to be working. Tara is kind and grounded. She has a good heart. As a teacher, she gets Maggie's need to feel like she's doing something that matters. It might not be love yet, but it feels like maybe this could be going somewhere. It's getting comfortable, and Maggie feels grateful to have finally found something that actually feels stable, something that doesn't immediately crumble at the first sign of Maggie's trademark tardiness or unreliable schedule.

Later that night, back at Maggie's place, Tara is fast asleep in bed beside her, but for Maggie, sleep still feels far away. 

She looks over at Tara, her blonde strands spread across the pillow, her hand on Maggie's thigh. Maggie will be the first to admit that maybe this isn't fire, not exactly, not that burning in your gut, make you a little crazy, keep you coming back despite your better judgement kind of fire, but maybe it doesn't need to be. Maybe Maggie is done thinking that sort of thing exists, that it can work, that it doesn't just turn things into a bunch of simmering embers that consumes you both. 

As she pulls the sheets over her body and settles into the pillow, she thinks to herself, _And who needs that anyway._

\--- 

Standing over the body in the trunk, it even surprises herself that her first instinct is to call Alex Danvers. Maybe it's just because she thinks the DEO might be able can help. Maybe part of it is because it's been two weeks since they last saw each other, since Alex saved her life, and she kind of wants to see her again, pick her brain, see if they can team up again. 

She feels her body tighten just slightly when she hears her voice after just one ring. 

"Danvers." 

"It's Sawyer. Want to see a dead body?" 

If she's learned anything about her yet, Maggie is sure Danvers won't turn that kind of offer down. 

\--- 

"Wow, never had someone steal a perp from me. That was a new one for sure," Maggie says as she and Danvers walk back to where they parked their bikes, Maggie rubbing the area on her arm where the taser hit her skin. 

It's not the only place where Maggie is hurting. She can feel the punches in her shoulder, can feel bruises forming on her side. They'd tracked down the Brevakk, but the last thing they had expected as an ambush. 

"Yeah, looks like someone has more enemies than just us," Alex replies with curt nod. 

A few moments ago, Danvers was at Maggie's side where she was laid out on the ground. Her hand was on Maggie's. As she was coming to from the taser shock, she could have sworn she felt Alex brush the hair out of her face, that she heard her whisper "Maggie" when she's only ever heard her call her "Sawyer." Now, it's back to all business, so much that Maggie's not even that sure it happened anymore. 

"Guess we gotta widen our lens now." 

They reach their bikes, and Maggie pulls out her keys. Alex picks up her helmet. 

"Tomorrow," Alex insists, eyeing Maggie's new injuries, her slight limp. "You should get out of here." 

"You sure?" 

"My lead hits a dead end there anyway. We need to find more intel." 

Maggie knows by 'we,' Alex means the DEO, and there's far too much red tape to let Maggie into that world the way she's starting to wish she could be. She might have access to Danvers, but the DEO is still off limits. 

"Well, my girlfriend will appreciate the early night," Maggie replies casually, wishing instead that she could go back to headquarters with Alex and start tracking new leads. 

"Yeah, um, enjoy," Alex tells her, and when Maggie's eyes find hers, she thinks maybe there's some disappointment there too that they can't keep working. 

Alex swings her leg over her Ducati before pausing. "Oh, hey, Sawyer. Thanks for having my back out there." 

"Right back at ya, Danvers." 

Alex pulls on her helmet, starts the bike, and disappears into the night, while Maggie just lingers, watching her go. 

She thinks about how quickly Alex had gotten to her side after the fight, helped her up, how Alex acted like she didn't have a scratch or a bruise on her, how she still held her head high despite the punches. Maggie realizes she was wrong about Danvers. She's not just as tough as she acts. She's far tougher. 

\--- 

"Oh my god. What the hell happened?" Tara asks, rushing to Maggie, who is limping through Tara's apartment door, casting off her jacket on the kitchen counter, revealing the purple bruise forming on her arm. 

Tara reaches her side quickly, helping her to the couch. 

"The FBI agent I've been working with called me with a lead. We got ambushed," she explains as she collapses into the sofa. "I'm fine though, I promise," she adds. 

Tara shakes her head. "Why do you always have to be the one to go charging in?" 

"It's my case. My responsibility," Maggie insists. 

Tara sighs. "It's just a job, Maggie," Tara says softly, her fingers moving to the taser marks on Maggie's arm. 

Maggie pulls away. "It's not just a job." 

Tara scoffs. "Right, most people's jobs don't almost get them killed on a daily basis. Maybe next time the FBI can call someone else." 

Maggie stands, feeling the anger rising up inside her. "I don't want them to call anyone else. I've worked my ass off for this," she says, her voice starting to raise. 

Tara stands to meet her, reaching for Maggie, her voice softer now. "I'm sorry, I know. That's not what I meant," she says sweetly, her hands finding Maggie's waist. "I just worry about you." 

Maggie feels her body relax, the tension melting. She's exhausted, and it's finally hitting her all at once. "I know," she says nodding. 

"Come here, let's get those clothes off, okay?" Tara tugs at Maggie's shirt, pulling it from her jeans, then reaching to unfasten her belt. 

Maggie relents. It's been a long day, and every part of her body aches. And right now, it feels good to be touched. 

Later, they make love in the shower. The hot water feels good on Maggie's aching muscles, and Tara's hands are doing just what they should. She closes her eyes, and she can't help but wonder for a moment if Alex is still up, if she's tracking leads, that she should really be there helping her. But it's a useless curiosity. Besides, the DEO doesn't really need the help of some city cop, so Maggie closes her eyes and let's her body succumb. 

\--- 

This time Maggie is the one with the lead. She had woken the next morning and hit the ground running. The DEO might have fancy biochemical trackers and high tech weaponry, but Maggie knows that you're never as strong as your informants. And maybe she wants Danvers to need her help. 

Now, she's standing in front of her bathroom mirror, prepping for the part of wealthy National City socialite. Form-fitting black dress and high heels. She has just finished pinning her hair up and is applying a layer of lipstick when she hears her apartment door open. 

Her brow furrows in confusion. 

"Tara?" she calls out. 

Tara appears a moment later in the bathroom doorway, taking in Maggie's outfit. "Wow, I'm clearly underdressed." 

"Shit," Maggie exclaims, realizing it's Thursday night, and she'd completely forgotten their plans. She'd gotten so caught up in the case, as she often does, that the days just seem to meld together. 

"Oh." Tara's face falls. "This isn't for me," she says, motioning to Maggie's dress. 

"I'm so sorry, I have to work tonight," Maggie apologizes, eyeing the clock and seeing she needs to get on the road. She had told Alex 9pm, and it's already inching towards half past 8. Maggie didn't give her any details besides an address, and she doesn't want to keep her waiting outside in the night in a seedy part of town, even if Alex Danvers isn't one that needs protecting. "Can I please have a rain check?" 

"In that?" Tara says, eyeing her doubtfully. "You're working in that? 

"Undercover," she replies, pushing past Tara to the bedroom where she starts gathering her things. 

"Right. Well, you look incredible." 

Just then, Maggie hears a cell phone ringing and looks around for hers. 

"Is that me?" 

She looks up and sees Tara nod, reaching for Maggie's cell from the bathroom counter. "Want me to get it? 

"It's okay," Maggie replies. She knows it could only be one person. 

"Who is Alex Danvers?" Tara asks, reading the name off the phone, her face perplexed at the unrecognized name. 

"The bureau agent who's been helping me with cases." 

"Is that who you're meeting tonight? Wearing that?" 

Maggie pauses and meets Tara's gaze, walking over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Just work, babe." 

"Oh yeah?" Tara asks, handing the phone to Maggie. "And does Agent Danvers also have a girlfriend he keeps ditching to catch bad guys with you?" 

"No..." Maggie feels her body tense up, and debates whether to clarify. It's getting late though, and she needs to go, and it shouldn't matter who she's working with anyway. 

"Well, maybe you shouldn't either," Tara suggests, and even though, there is a touch of playful sarcasm to her voice, Maggie knows it's not all joking. This tension has been building between them and Maggie has been sensing for weeks that a fight may erupt soon. Right now, at this moment, it's the last thing she needs. 

"Please," Maggie pleads. "I promise I will make it up to you. Okay? You look beautiful, by the way. Stay here, wait for me to get home?" she asks, reaching out for Tara's hands. 

Tara finally smiles. "Fine. But I'm not staying dressed up. I'll be wearing your pajamas when you get back." 

Maggie smirks. "You could be wearing nothing instead," she replies suggestively. 

Tara blushes as Maggie leans in for a kiss. 

"You're lucky you're so smooth." 

\--- 

It's dark out now, and the skyline of National City glows bright in the distance. Maggie stands outside the large warehouse after taking a cab over from her apartment. Her informant told her that guests were to be inconspicuous, so vehicles weren't allowed. That meant a squad car was definitely out of the question, and it gave her a reason not to try managing her Bonneville in stilettos. She got there early and did a sweep of the exterior, but she still couldn't determine what they were walking into. She wanted to make sure this was safe, that it isn't a trap, that she's not putting Alex in danger, which is silly really. Their job is all about danger. 

She had called Alex back as soon as she'd left her apartment, once out of Tara's earshot. She was worried that something had come up, that Alex was canceling, that she'd be in this one alone. It was none of the sort. Alex was simply confirming the address, which, of course, shows up as an abandoned warehouse. Maggie had assured her it was correct, and Alex had laughed at the fact they were showing up pretty ill-equipped for anything besides a date. 

"You'd know if I was asking you on a date, Danvers." 

"Oh," Alex had replied, and Maggie had been able to practically feel her tense up from across the line. 

"Relax, I'm just messing," Maggie had assured with a laugh, shaking her head. "I'll see you soon." 

Maggie smiles to herself. She enjoys working side by side with Alex. It feels easy. She's smart and a hell of a fighter. It feels like they were somehow always on the same page without even having to say so. They anticipate each other's moves. And Alex always has her back. Maggie feels like she can trust her, which she'd never fully felt before with a partner. 

How quickly her opinion of her has changed from that first day, when she seemed arrogant, self-absorbed, and uptight. Maggie hates being wrong, but she has to admit she had been. There is so much more to Alex Danvers. 

Maggie hears the crunch of feet in the gravel and turns. 

Now here Alex is, striding up in a striking little blue number, and Maggie once again gets to see another side of her. 

"You clean up nice," Maggie remarks, with a smile, letting herself admire the view for a brief moment. 

She notices Alex blush a little and awkwardly dodge the attention, shrugging the compliment off in a slightly self-deprecating way, and offering Maggie one instead. Maggie can't help but notice how endearing it is to see Alex outside of her comfort zone of DEO black and high powered machinery. That awkward fumbling nerd Maggie is starting to discover makes Alex Danvers, who had once seemed impossibly haughty, more human than Maggie would have imagined that day they met on the airport tarmac. 

Not that there was anything self-effacing about that dress though. If Maggie is honest, Alex's looks could kill just as easily as her upper cut, but for whatever reason, Alex acts as if she has never had someone give her a compliment before. Maggie knows that can't possibly be true. Alex Danvers must have a long line of potential suitors. And yet, to Maggie's knowledge, there wasn't one. 

It made her think back to what Tara had said. _Why doesn't Alex Danvers have someone to go home to at night?_

Maggie pushes the question out of her mind. Tonight, they have a job to do. She hands Alex the mask she'd brought and reaches for Alex's hand to pull her towards the warehouse entrance. She realizes it's maybe a bold move, but it comes naturally. Their hands seem to fit together. Maybe this is what it felt like to finally find a partner she could trust. To have someone have your back. She wonders for a moment if maybe there was more to it than that, but she silences the thought as they entered into the dimly lit warehouse, unsure what exactly awaits them inside. 

\--- 

Later, Maggie finally returns home. She turns the key in her door and pushes it open. She's surprised to find the apartment completely dark. 

"Tara?" she calls out, reaching her hand up to switch on a light. 

The room is empty. Quiet. Maggie sighs. She checks her phone. A quarter to midnight. No missed calls. She walks over and collapses on the sofa in frustration, knowing Tara must be upset with her, again. 

Maggie eyes a piece of paper on the coffee table and picks it up. 

_I have an early morning, and I couldn't wait up any longer. I'm sorry I didn't call, but I didn't want to bother you. I think we need to have a talk soon. -T_

Maggie tosses the paper down, shaking her head in frustration. She needs a drink. 

Without thinking, she reaches for her cell and sends a text. 

_You still up?_

Maggie stands and heads to the bedroom, stripping off the black dress and pulling a pair of fitted blue jeans over her hips. A gray silk tank follows. Her phone beeps with a text alert, and Maggie reaches for it. 

_Up? I'm still at the office._

Maggie grins. _Damn, Danvers. Do you ever sleep?_

_Sleep is for the weak._

_I agree. How about an after work drink?_

It's only a few seconds before the message is returned. 

_I'm there._

Maggie smiles to herself and pulls on her leather jacket. 

\--- 

"I got first round," Alex announces. 

It's just past midnight, and they've managed to snag a pool table at the bar despite the crowd of off-worlders. 

"All right, loser gets the next?" 

"Well, then expect to be putting out all night, Sawyer," Alex quips. 

"In your dreams, Danvers." 

Alex grins sheepishly. Maggie loves that you could never tell that Alex is such a lethal opponent. Maggie has a feeling she was about to get her ass handed to her, she has a lot of skills but pool issn't one of them, but she loves teasing Alex, making her laugh, helping her loosen up. 

Truth is Alex has a great smile, and Maggie likes bringing it out. Bright and wide and could hit you right in the gut and make you feel like everything was okay in the world. Maggie realized now that that's probably why she had asked Alex to join her out. It helped her forget about the sudden complicatedness of her relationship. She feels at ease with Alex. Relaxed. And she appreciates that. 

Alex saunters back from the bar a few moments later as Maggie finishes racking the pool balls, with two shots in one hand, two bottles of beer in the other. 

Maggie laughs instinctively. "Starting strong, huh?" 

"Work hard, play hard, Sawyer." 

"I can cheers to that," Maggie replies, taking one of each glass from Alex and lifting it in the air, letting it clink with Alex's. 

"Now let's see if you can keep up," Alex challenges with a wink, and Maggie feels it in her gut, that smile. 

Swiftly and smoothly Alex leans over, lines up her cue, and places a ball in a corner pocket before flashing Maggie a cocky smile, and Maggie knows it won't be long until she is at the bar, flagging down a bartender and dropping down a $20 bill for the next round. 

\--- 

An hour or so later, when Maggie returns with the third, maybe the fourth round, she hadn't been keeping very good track, she plops a bottle down in front of Alex and remarks, "I'm hoping you didn't drive here," as Alex takes a bit longer than normal to steady her shot. 

Alex laughs. "I parked at my little sister's and walked over. Figured I'd just crash there." 

"Sister?" Maggie asks, surprised. "Aw. So there's a little Danvers?" And Maggie briefly imagines a miniature version of Alex, wonders if she has those same expressive brown eyes and quick-witted mouth. 

"There is. She's not so little though." 

"Is she also a badass alien hunter?" 

"Reporter. Well, budding reporter. Worked her way up from being Cat Grant's slave." 

"Wow. Cat Grant, huh? I'm guessing it wasn't the good kind of slave then," Maggie quips. 

Alex raises her brows at Maggie. "There's a good kind of slave?" 

"You'd be surprised," Maggie says suggestively, and Alex's eyes widen. "Kidding. Mostly," she adds, and Alex laughs. "I hear Grant's a piece of work though. Thick skin must run in the family." 

"Wish I could say she got that from us, but I think that's all Kara." 

Maggie's eyes narrow, unsure what Alex is implying. 

"I just mean, Kara," Alex explain. "She's adopted." 

"Oh! Now that's a twist I didn't see coming." 

"It doesn't change anything though. She's my sister, through and through. I would do anything for her." 

Maggie can see in Alex's eyes that she's not exaggerating, that there is nothing there but sincere love and fierce loyalty. 

"Damn. Wish I had someone I felt that way about," Maggie replies with a touch of sadness. 

"You don't have siblings?" 

Maggie shrugs. "I've got a shithead little brother." 

"What about, you know, your girlfriend?" Alex asks carefully. 

"Oh god. Tara? We're not there yet," Maggie explains, shaking her head. Not even close, she thinks. Especially not lately. After months of smooth-sailing, it feels like they've run head first into a road block. Maggie isn't even sure what's the cause. "Maybe eventually." 

"Right," Alex replies, nodding. She grows quiet, and Maggie tries to read her reaction without success. She still hasn't figured out Alex, especially not when it comes to her personal life. Maggie notes that she doesn't volunteer anything, not about dating or relationships or an interest, and Maggie wonders if Alex is still just trying to keep things professional. It doesn't make sense though, when they're on their way to drunk, playing pool, near 1am. Maggie eyes her with curiosity as Alex leans down for another shot. 

"So tell me, Danvers. How's a kid from Midvale end up DEO?" 

Alex looks up surprised, eyes narrowed. 

"I do my research," Maggie explains with a smirk. 

Alex smiles, embarrassed, like she's been caught red-handed, like she's nervous about what else Maggie might know. 

\--- 

"So you quit med school for the DEO? Shit," Maggie remarks. 

Alex has just finished explaining the story of her recruitment, from her graduate research sparking their interest to her year of dedicated training. Maggie is...impressed, to say the least. 

"Well, to be fair, I was headed towards getting the boot," Alex says, wincing. "Got a little off track." 

Maggie smiles. "Party girl, huh?" 

"It was a phase. Me..dealing...er, not dealing, with all the pressure." 

"Huh," Maggie replies, matter-of-fairly, her eyes set on Alex. 

"What?" Alex says, fidgeting nervously with the pool cue. 

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Danvers." 

"How so?" 

Maggie's brows lift. She shrugs. "I just can't quite see you just letting loose." 

"I can let loose," Alex insists. 

And there again, another side of Alex she hadn't expected. 

Maggie nods, smirks. "Look forward to seeing it." 

Alex laughs before taking another shot, placing the 8 ball in a corner pocket and claiming another victory. 

"Damnit! Again already?" Maggie exclaims. 

"You talk a big game, I half-expected you to have one," Alex teases. 

"I was going easy on you," Maggie insists. 

Alex sets down her cue and looks around. The bar has all but cleared out and a few workers have already upended the chairs onto the tables and are busy sweeping floors. 

"Should we call it a night?" Alex asks. 

Maggie's eyes find the clock. It's her after 2am. 

"I don't think they'll give us much choice pretty soon." 

Alex nods in agreement, and Maggie watches her pull her leather jacket back on, covering those long lean arms. 

"I'll walk you. To your sisters," Maggie blurts out, without thinking. "I can grab a cab from there." 

\--- 

It's quiet out save for the occasional sounds of a passing car and the click of their boots on the concrete pavement. There is a chill in the air, and Maggie shoves her hands deep in her pockets to stay warm. It's been silent between them since they left the bar, and Maggie can't figure out why the mood suddenly shifted now that they are alone, but it has. 

"That was impressive tonight," Maggie finally says, breaking the silence. She's been meaning to say something all night, but it didn't seem right until now. 

Alex scoffs. "What? Me calling in Supergirl to save my ass?" 

"No. You saving hers," Maggie says, meeting Alex's eyes for a long moment. "Don't think I didn't notice, Danvers." 

Ales bites her lip, fidgets, looks away. 

They make their way a few paces further and Alex motions as they come upon an old converted factory building. Alex slows to a stop and turns to face Maggie. 

"You want to come up?" 

"I'm sure your sister doesn't want a couple of noisy drunks having a night cap." 

"She's not home." 

Maggie feels her heartbeat quicken, feels her chest tighten. She pushes the feeling away. 

"And here I thought I was out with the wild sister," Maggie quips playfully, trying to ease the tension that she's still not quite sure why is there. 

"Oh, no, no, it's... work-related," Alex corrects with a laugh. 

"Gotcha. Two workaholics." 

"Something like that." 

Maggie nods, a long moment passes. "Thank you... for tonight. I needed this." 

"Thanks for footing the bill," Alex teases. 

Maggie smiles. "It was worth it. I should really go though." 

Alex nods.

Maybe it was the haze of alcohol, but Maggie notes a sense of hesitation hanging in the air between them. Something holding them firmly in place, eyes locked on each other, when Maggie knows damn well that it is late and she should already be home. It is only moments, Maggie is sure, but it feels like hours. 

Maggie finally inhales deeply, breaking the stillness. 

"Night, Danvers," she says softly. 

"Night, Sawyer..." 

Maggie turns on her heel and takes off into the night. She knows the buzz of alcohol is still thickly laced to every sensation, heightening everything from the cool chill of the wind on her face to the taste of liquor still on her lips, but she is still pretty sure she can feel Alex's eyes on her while she walks away, and it makes her aware of every breath she takes. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the sweet comments on the last chapter. It pushes me to keep writing :)

Later that night, after a hot shower, Maggie finally crawls into bed. She pulls out the note from Tara and resolves to make things right between them. For all that Tara has put up with when it comes to Maggie's job, Maggie owes it to her. And she owes it to herself to give this thing all she has. But part of her wishes that it wasn't so difficult, that she didn't have to try so hard, that it came a little easier. That she could just relax and let her guard down, like she had tonight. Like she seems to so easily do with Alex. 

Maggie's thoughts keep returning to Alex as she starts to drift to sleep. 

Alex. Alex, who understands this calling, who Maggie doesn't have to hide from, who doesn't make Maggie feel like there is something wrong with her because her work is her life.

She's grateful for the kinship, and she acknowledges that for once in her 3 years in National City, she feels like she's finally got someone she can trust, someone she can count on. Finally she's at least got a friend in this town. 

—

The blaring alarm three hours later is an unwelcome intrusion on Maggie's sleep, but she extracts herself from bed. Half an hour later, she pulls her squad car up to Born and Bread, a little bakery in Bridgeline, and returns moments later with a sack of bagels and two coffees, just as the sun starts peaking over the horizon. She drives across town and makes her way to Tara's place, parking along the street and heading up the two flights to her apartment. 

She knocks, balancing the coffee and bagels in her left hand.

When Tara answers, her eyes are wide wth surprise. She's midway through getting ready for her day, her hair blown dry and makeup applied, but still wearing a robe. 

"Maggie! What are you..."

"I come bearing bagels and coffee and apologies," Maggie tells her, holding up the items and bearing a remorseful expression. 

"Mmm, what kind?" 

"Of apologies? The sincere kind," Maggie quips. 

"Bagels, jerk," Tara says playfully, taking the sack from Maggie and motioning her inside. 

Maggie smiles. "Everything, your favorite."

"To what do I owe this early morning gift?" Tara asks, setting the bag on her kitchen counter and moving back to her bedroom to finish getting ready. 

Maggie sets the two coffees down and follows her in. She catches up to Tara and pulls her away from her open closet.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry, for last night. I didn't mean to be so late."

Tara shakes her head, but Maggie can tell she's not angry, at least not anymore. 

"You never do. So how'd it go?"

"Eh, terribly. But at least we know what we're dealing with."

"I'm glad you're safe. I was starting to worry," Tara says, sweetly pushing Maggie's hair from her face.

"I didn't want to call and wake you," Maggie explains, but even as she says it, she knows it's not quite true. When she picked up her phone last night, her first instinct was not to contact Tara. 

"I do need my beauty sleep," Tara jokes. 

"Hardly," Maggie says suggestively, reaching for the strap of Tara's robe and untying it.

Tara shakes her head, pulling her robe closed over her. "I can't. I'll be late."

"I'll drop you off." 

Maggie knows Tara's commute, on the subway and then the bus, takes her nearly an hour, but Maggie could get her there in less than 20.

"No way I'm getting on that bike!" Tara objects.

"I know. I brought the squad car, just for you," Maggie assures her, reaching for Tara's waist and pulling her closer. "I'll turn on the sirens so we can bypass traffic."

"How chivalrous," Tara replies, relenting, letting Maggie pull her closer and slide the robe off her shoulders. "The coffee is going to get cold," she adds in final mock protest. 

"Let it," Maggie says, kissing her, and Tara finally gives in. 

—

An hour later, Maggie parks the squad car in front of Tara's school, just as Tara finishes off a bagel with cream cheese and her now lukewarm coffee. 

"Thank you again, for all of this," Tara tells her as she undoes her seatbelt. Maggie can tell from her expression that she's been let off the hook, at least for now. "I'll see you tonight?" 

It takes a moment for Maggie to realize what Tara is referring to. The Halloween carnival at the elementary school that Tara had volunteered them for. Maggie sees Tara's face fall. 

"You forgot."

"I didn't." _She did._ "I'll be there."

"You promised," Tara replies doubtfully.

"I will be there," Maggie insists. She leans over to Tara in the passenger seat and gives her a quick kiss.

—

That evening, Maggie stands in front of the mirror getting ready. She's wearing her old patrol uniform from her beat cop days, her hair pulled back in a neat bun. She places her brimmed police hat she hasn't worn in ages on her head. 

It was a long day, and Maggie spent most of it with a coffee in hand, fighting off the fatigue from the night before. She finished filing her report on the fight club just before a new case, an amateur robbery attempt by some alien rookies, drags her across town. It's an open and shut case, and she gets back to the precinct with just enough time to close things out and race home to change. 

When she arrives at the school, she parks the Bonneville and enters the gymnasium amid a crowd of costumed tykes, in everything from ghouls and goblins to a heavy contingency of Supergirl costumes. The gymnasium is decked out with orange and black streamers and fake cobwebs, skeletons and jack-o-lanterns. Carnival games dot the room. 

Maggie's eyes finally fall on Tara, setting up a bean bag toss game a few yards away. She's dressed as Elsa, her long blonde hair in a loose French braid pulled over her shoulder and a crystal-blue dress. A few of her students are gathered around her, fawning over her. She's a sight for sore eyes, and even though Maggie might have preferred a quiet night, maybe a hot bath with a glass of wine, she's glad now that she made tonight happen. 

As she approaches, Tara sets the kids off on their own and looks up to greet Maggie.

"You know, it's not a costume if it's what you actually do," Tara chides as Maggie approaches, a slightly disapprovingly look.

Maggie sighs. "It's nice to see you too."

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I'm glad you're here," Tara says apologetically, reaching her hand up to Maggie's neck and leaning in to kiss her. 

"So how can I help?" Maggie asks, motioning to the table. 

Tara thanks her again and hands the reigns to the booth over to her while she rushes off to make sure the photo booth is set up, assuring Maggie of her prompt return.

Maggie greets the first set of kids, setting up the game and handing out candy to the winners. When the most recent group disperses, the parting crowd reveals s little girl standing a few feet in front of Maggie's booth. She can't be more than 5 or 6 years old, Maggie surmises, with short brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a face full of freckles. Unlike the dozens of Supergirl and princesses, this kid is dressed in full combat attire including a camouflage suit, tactical vest, with black boots, and a faux weapons belt. US Navy is written in all caps along the top left chest. A pint-sized soldier. 

"Want to play?" Maggie urges, but the little girl just shyly bows her head.

Maggie comes around the side of the booth and crouches down beside the girl.

"Look what we have here. A navy seal!”

The little girl finally looks up at Maggie. "I want to catch bad guys."

“Wow, that's a big job. You must be very brave." The little girl shrugs. "I'm Maggie. What's your name?"

"Micah."

"Micah, that's a cool name."

"People say it's a boy's name," the girl says with a frown, her head down now again.

"It's not a boy's name, it's your name. And I like it a lot." Maggie encourages, but it doesn't change the girl’s frown. "You know," Maggie continues. "I have a friend named Alex, and she's a girl, and you know what she does?"

The little one looks up, eyes wide now.

"She catches bad guys."

"Is she brave?" Micah asks hopefully.

Maggie nods as she thinks of Alex. "I think she's the bravest person I know."

Micah smiles widely, just as a nearby voice calls out for her. Micah looks over before turning back to Maggie. 

"Gotta go. Bye Maggie," Micah says before running off towards her mother.

Maggie stands and returns to her spot at the game just as she feels her cell phone buzzing in her back pocket. She pulls it out, glancing at the caller ID. 

_Speak of the devil,_ she thinks. 

"Danvers!"

Maggie takes a couple strides away from the booth, trying to get away from the deafening noise of kids laughter and screams. 

Alex laughs. "Am I interrupting your trick or treating, Sawyer?"

"Cute," Maggie replies sarcastically, but she finds herself grinning regardless. "You get a lead?"

"Got a name for our lady in red. Veronica Sinclair. Goes by Roulette.”

"Roulette." Maggie shakes her head in disgust. "How subtle for someone gambling on people's lives," she adds sarcastically. "Have you tracked her down?"

"Not yet."

"I'll ask around, check with my contacts."

"Be careful,” Alex pleads. “This woman, she's got money, connections."

"You worried about me, Danvers?" Maggie teases. 

Maggie hears Alex scoff and then laugh. "Just don't want to lose my best detective."

"So you do need me," Maggie replies with a smirk. 

A few moments later, they say goodbye and end the call. When Maggie looks back up, Tara has returned, standing behind the booth. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are on Maggie, a look of disapproval. Maggie's smile fades immediately. She walks across to Tara.

"Sorry, that was just Danvers. About the case," Maggie explains, sliding her cell phone back into her pocket. 

"Does that mean you're leaving?" Tara asks expectantly, as if she knows the answer coming. 

Maggie fidgets. She wants to get started on this, she doesn't want it to wait, but she knows she has been on thin ice these days with Tara.

"No, no, it can wait," Maggie answers reluctantly, turning back to the game and greeting the next group of kids.

—

Later, after the carnival has ended, they both return to Tara's place. When Maggie arrives, after parking her bike in the garage, Tara has already changed out of her costume. After Maggie let's herself in, she finds Tara still in her bedroom. She comes up behind her and wraps her arms around her waist. 

"Hey," Maggie says softly. 

Tara turns in her arms, taking in the sight of Maggie in her uniform. 

"Hi, detective," she replies suggestively, as she starts unbuttoning Maggie's blue top, revealing her bare skin and white lace bra beneath. 

"See. You do like the costume," Maggie tells her with a knowing smirk. 

"I do." Tara reaches down and unfastens Maggie's belt. "I'm going to like it better on my floor though," she adds. Maggie's hand moves to the back of Tara's neck and pulls her in for a deep kiss. 

"Thank you for everything today," Tara says after they pull apart, more seriously now.

"So, are we cool?" Maggie wonders, having felt like they'd been on unsteady ground. 

"Yeah, yeah. We're cool," Tara answers, nodding. "I just...it was starting to feel like we were... off. You know? And maybe I overreacted. I just, I don't always know how you feel..." Tara says, her voice trailing off to a whisper. 

"About?"

"About me. Us. And I got worried. Cause I've been thinking lately. I mean, not thinking per say... but feeling like...like I..." Tara hesitates, fidgeting nervously, avoiding meeting Maggie's gaze. 

Maggie eyes her with curiosity, unsure what Tara is trying to get at. "Like what?" 

Tara sighs, her fingers moving shyly to Maggie's stomach, trailing over the muscles there. 

"God, why do you have to be so beautiful?" Tara whispers, shaking her head, her cheeks blushing as her eyes gaze over Maggie's body, filled with desire. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Maggie jokes sarcastically, trying to release whatever tension has been hanging in the air. Grinning, she wraps her arms around Tara, walking her a couple steps back before pushing her down onto the bed.

It works. Tara laughs, smiling, and Maggie crawls on top of her, leaning down to kiss her as Tara pushes Maggie's shirt off her shoulders. 

Maggie's phone beeps from her back pocket, and before she can get it, Tara reaches for it and tosses it on the floor. 

"Not tonight," she pleads. 

Maggie nods, giving in, kissing her again. In the back of her mind though, she wonders if the message on her phone is from Alex. 

—

It's Saturday evening when Maggie gets the call she's been waiting for. It's ill-timed to say the least. She's sitting on the sofa in Tara's living room, waiting for her to grab her purse and shoes so they can head to dinner, when her phone starts ringing. 

She checks the caller ID. It's Danvers. 

Maggie answers anxiously. "Hey, you get something?"

"We've got an address," Alex tells her. In the background, Maggie can hear the workings of the DEO readying for a raid. "Moving in at the hour. Can you get here?"

"Yeah, text me the location," she says before hanging up. 

When she looks up, Tara is standing a few feet in front of her. The look on her face says she already knows what is coming. 

Maggie stands. "I'm so sorry. I have to go."

"You're joking," Tara replies in disbelief. 

"It's Danvers. They got a break in the case,” she explains. “We’re gonna close in tonight."

"It's Saturday night, Maggie. You're off," Tara implores. 

"I'm never off, babe," Maggie replies, pulling her leather jacket back on. 

"You're NCPD. Why do you have to be at the FBI's beck and call?"

Maggie shakes her head. Tara doesn't know how things work. She doesn't know this isn't FBI but DEO, that they hunt aliens, that they don't handle civilian arrests. That's her job, and she as hell isn't going to leave it to someone else in her department. 

"They're the ones that have been at mine Please, this is my case," Maggie explains, begging for lenience. "I need to see it out."

Tara sighs. "How late will you be?"

"It shouldn't be long. And then this case will be done," Maggie insists, moving across the room to Tara and reaching for her hand. "Can we meet back up at the station later? I'll take you out. We can celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" Tara replies sarcastically. "Finally getting my girlfriend back?"

Maggie leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek before turning and heading to the door.

Just before she goes, Tara calls out, "Be safe," and Maggie nods.

—

Maggie is sitting across the table from Roulette in a dimly lim interrogation room when she hears a rasping on the glass. She stands and exits out the door to find her lieutenant standing with a suited older man, carrying a briefcase. 

"Turn her loose," her lieutenant says gruffly. 

Maggie's eyes widen in shock, gazing back and forth from her lieutenant to this stranger. "Excuse me?" she asks incredulously. 

"Lawyer's here. We can't hold her, Sawyer."

"Like hell we can't," Maggie argues, anger flaring up inside her. 

The lawyer has a smarmy look on his face that disgusts her. "You know of a law that I don't against aliens utilizing their free will?" the lawyer counters.

"That wasn't free will."

"You got a witness to say otherwise? That's what I thought," he remarks condescendingly, before moving through the door into the interrogation room. 

Maggie turns back to her lieutenant. "Are you kidding me?"

"Wish I was."

"What about everything else? She doesn't have a license to be running that joint. That building's not up to code. There's gotta be something we can hold her on."

"The DA's office already called, kid. They're not gonna prosecute."

"Lieutenant," Maggie objects. 

"Just get her out of here. No ones happy about this, Sawyer."

Maggie shakes her head. 

Just to make a point, she walks Roulette all the way out of the precinct before she removes the handcuffs. 

—

Maggie is surprised to run into Danvers when she gets outside. She’s back in street clothes, and she’s just in time to witness Maggie’s frustration as she explains why she’s turning Roulette lose. Why they have to watch Roulette, an arrogant smirk on her face, flaunt her status and get into a limousine, something that makes Maggie grit her teeth in anger. 

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a good cop,” Maggie says, fuming. 

“I think you’re a great cop,” Alex insists, and Maggie is pretty sure this is the first compliment she’s ever heard out of Alex Danvers mouth, and it isn’t a small one. Despite their growing friendship, she’s still surprised to hear it. Their relationship has been more witty banter and teasing than anything quite this honest. 

Maggie smirks. “You getting soft on me?” she teases, and she watches Alex blush a little. Maggie feels the tension in her body ease as she sees Alex smile. 

When Alex invites her out for a conciliatory drink, Maggie wants more than anything to say yes. She could use that kind of night, like they’d had before. An evening of beer and pool and trading quips with Alex and forgetting about how shitty this case turned out. It’s exactly what she needs right now. 

Just then, she catches eyes with Tara who walks over and leans in for a kiss. 

Maggie turns back to Alex. 

“Next time,” she promises.

__

 

"Who was that?" Tara asks Maggie as she pulls the driver's side door shut. 

"Who?" Maggie wonders, looking around from the passenger seat to see who she might be referring to.

"The pretty redhead asking you out."

Maggie scoffs. "Who? Danvers?"

"Oh," Tara replies, her voice laced with irritation. 

"What?"

" _That's_ Alex Danvers?" 

"Yeah."

Tara pauses, takes a deep breath, gathering her composure. She's still facing forward, the car still in park, not looking at Maggie. "You didn't think it was important to tell me that Alex was a woman?"

Maggie shrugs. "Why does it matter?" she counters defensively.

Tara turns to Maggie, eyes flaring with anger. "You _lied_ to me."

"I didn't lie," Maggie insists.

"You sure as hell didn't offer up the truth," Tara argues, her voice raising now. 

"Tara, come on," Maggie replies casually, trying to pacify her. 

"Is there something going on with her?"

"No! God no. It's a work relationship. We're colleagues." Even as she says it, Maggie knows it's not true. Colleagues don't text each other late at night when they can't sleep. They don't go for beer and pool at midnight. They don't spill things about their pasts or walk the other home. And the colleagues on the force she does grab an occasional beer with look nothing like Alex Danvers. But still, there was nothing to be upset over. Nothing to be jealous about. They were, at most, friends, pure and simple. Nothing more.

"Colleagues? She asked you out, Maggie."

"Its not like that. She's a fucking straight girl, Tara." 

_If she wasn't, this situation would be very different,_ Maggie finds herself thinking, and it takes her by surprise. She tries to temper the thought, tell herself that she didn't mean anything other than what is her typical M.O., to chase down any pretty girl she has an ounce of attraction to. Yet deep down, Maggie knows it's not just that. For the first time, she lets herself consider the fact that she cares about Alex. That maybe Alex really is starting to mean something to her. And from her words tonight, maybe Alex is feeling the same in return, but it's not like Tara thinks. 

Tara nods, pursing her lips. "Oh yeah? She tell you that? Sounds like you're pretty close," she adds bitterly.

"No, I just..." Maggie starts. "Trust me, I know she's not into me," she insists, reaching her hand over to touch Tara's arm, desperately trying to calm her. Maggie feels her relax under her touch. 

"Whatever you say," Tara replies, her tone resigned. She starts the engine and shifts the car into drive. 

\---

The rest of the evening together passes without further discussion of Alex Danvers, but the mood is far from celebratory. Tara seemed uneasy, guarded, distant, and Maggie's quips and charms did little to change it. At the end of dinner, when Tara tells Maggie she's tired and just wants to go home, Maggie isn't even surprised. And she doesn't argue.

\---

When Maggie returns home, her apartment is dark and quiet. She turns on a lamp beside her couch, and crosses to the bedroom, where she changes into a pair of joggers that she takes from the hamper and an oversized NCPD t-shirt before heading to the sofa, flipping the television on to catch up on The Fall. Her mind keeps returning to the case, to Roulette, to the aliens she hurt, that she objectified. To that burning in her gut she felt when she was told Roulette was getting off, when Maggie had to be the one to let her go. 

Maggie instinctively picks up her phone, needing to reach out, to connect with someone who understands what she’s feeling. 

_It's killing me. Her getting away with it,_ she writes. 

_It's not over. Someday she’ll pay,_ Alex replies. 

And Maggie doesn't doubt it. She doesn't question Alex's word or her resolve. Maggie has learned that crossing Alex Danvers is anyone’s worst mistake. 

_Did you go for a drink?_ Maggie asks, not because she's making small talk, or because she's being polite, but because she wants to know. Because she had been wondering all evening, as she sat across from Tara at dinner, mostly in silence, what Alex was doing. 

_If sitting on my sofa nursing a bottle of Macallan counts, then yes._

Maggie reads the text and smiles to herself, picturing Alex at home, maybe in pajamas, maybe a little buzzed already, sipping straight from a bottle of scotch. 

_My favorite,_ Maggie sends before adding another message. _I'm sorry I couldn't join you tonight. Could have really used the drink too._

_You had better things to do._

Maggie frowns, exhaling deeply, with more than a trace of frustration, disappointment. She can't quite agree, not now that she's looking back at the evening. Celebratory dinner? Hardly. 

_I don't know. Sounds like a party over there,_ Maggie quips. 

_Told you I could let loose ;)_

Maggie laughs aloud. _Look at you, Danvers,_ Maggie types. _The neighbors gonna call the cops on you soon?_

_How'd you think I was planning to get you here._

Maggie grins and finds herself wishing she was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay getting this one out. Felt like there needed to be more than the show provided to get Maggie from ep 4 to 5, so it took a bit to iron that out.

Things quiet down. There's a lull. National City's steady crime rate seems to take a break. Maggie spends her days chasing down petty criminals and solving open and shut cases. She hits the gym, taking out her frustration with how the last case turned out on the punching bag. 

And she doesn't hear much from Alex. There's no case to discuss, no bad guys to hunt down together, no leads to chase. In some ways, it simplifies things. She and Tara start to find their rhythm again, get back on track. Tara seems to accept that it was just a work thing after all.

Maggie spends the low time looking into Roulette. Runs a background. Hits the streets. Talks to her contacts. She spends a night or two staking out Roulette's last known address, but she comes up empty handed. From all Maggie can tell, she's laying low. It's a double edged sword. Maggie is grateful Roulette has taken a break from exploitation, but she also wants to find another reason to hunt her down, catch her red-handed, haul her ass back into that interrogation room and finish what she started. 

The crime lull only serves to make Maggie more anxious instead of less. She feels like something bigger is brewing. It's supposed to be nothing but old cop folklore, but Maggie has found it to be true. This quiet is ominous. Like the calm before the storm.

\---

It's a week later when the storm breaks. 

It's a Friday, and the slow week has meant that Maggie left the precinct before 5 for the first time in as long as she can remember. She swings across town to pick up Tara to save her the long commute and take her out to dinner. 

The sun is starting to meet the horizon now, and Maggie navigates the squad car through downtown, Tara in the passenger seat. Maggie's arm is draped across the center console, her fingers intertwined with Tara's. The police radio hums on low volume, an old habit she's held onto from her patrol days. 

"So we haven't talked about it, but I wanted to ask," Tara says after a few moments of silence, twisting in her seat to face Maggie. "Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?"

Maggie shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno. I mean, Mendoza usually invites the stragglers over. Figured maybe I'd stop by," she explains, before looking over and meeting Tara's gaze. She suddenly realizes by Tara's look that this was maybe more than a casual question. "Oh, unless you-."

"My parents," Tara starts. "They're coming into town."

"Gotcha," Maggie says, nodding. "Well, I can lay low, give you some space."

Tara shakes her head. "That's not what I..." Tara shifts in her seat again. "I, um, I've mentioned you."

Maggie tenses at the statement. "You have?" she asks nervously. She didn't realize they were there yet. It's been good the last few months, but still, it's only been a few months.

Besides, Maggie hasn't mentioned someone to her parents in years. God forbid her mother start pestering her about settling down or asking if she'll ever get any grandchildren (her little brother sure as hell wouldn't be any help with that). She'd certainly never introduced someone to them, wouldn't dream of bringing someone back to Nebraska. What if they met the woman and didn't approve? Or worse, what if they did? 

"I...I wanted to," Tara continues. "I was thinking, maybe, if you're ready, you could, I don't know-"

Just then, something in the police radio catches Maggie's attention.

"One sec." She releases Tara's hand and reaches for the police radio, turning up the volume. 

_...report of three armed assailants at the UNC Ford Research building, 5th and Grand..._

Maggie pulls the car over abruptly. 

"Shit. That's a block from here," she says frantically as she shifts the car to park. 

_...suspects are alien, possible hostage situation..._

Maggie reaches her hand down, feeling for her gun at her waist, and pushes open the car door. 

"Wait. What are you doing?" Tara exclaims, her face frantic and shocked. 

Maggie steps out of the car, looking left then right before turning back to Tara. "Stay here. Keep the doors locked."

"Maggie!"

She slams the door shut and circles back to the trunk, popping it to grab her navy police windbreaker and pulling it on. 

\---

A few moments later, Maggie approaches the glass paneled building. Panicked civilians race out of the front door, a mix of shrill screams and cries. Maggie pulls her weapon and weaves through the crowd moving the opposite direction, entering the high ceilinged foyer of the building. 

Three aliens, armed with semi-automatics, stand across the foyer. One has a hostage, his arm wrapped around the man's neck, holding him firmly. 

Maggie moves around the perimeter, laying low and assessing the scene. Civilians dot the foyer, hiding behind furniture, a few around the corridor. The aliens wave their weapons, shouting about getting revenge.

Maggie notices the aliens seem to be trying to hold ground instead of attack. One keeps looking over his shoulder, like they're waiting on someone to join them, someone who's deeper inside the building. 

Just then, a security guard, who has been ducking behind the desk, lifts his weapon and takes aim. 

"No!" Maggie shouts, but it's too late.

The guard takes a shot at the alien with the hostage and gets a clean hit in his left arm. The alien reels in pain, and it forces him to release the hostage who takes off running. 

The alien curses and lifts his weapon, releasing a spray of bullets aimed at the hostage. His lifeless body drops at the impact. 

Screams again fill the foyer. A stray bullet collides with a coed, no more than 18. Maggie rushes to her side and finds the young woman grasping her leg, blood streaming from the wound. 

"You're okay. I've got you," Maggie assures her, holding pressure, the warm blood pouring into her hands. "You're gonna be okay." 

Instinctively, Maggie reaches for the scarf from the girl's neck and adeptly wraps it around her leg above the wound, creating a tourniquet. 

"I'm gonna get you out of here." 

Maggie waits until it's clear and then wraps the student's arm around her shoulders and puts her own arm around the woman's waist, lifting her to her feet and moving them towards safety.

A couple minutes later, they reach the sidewalk, and Maggie hands the young woman off to a medic, who takes her towards a nearby ambulance waiting on the curb. 

Maggie turns back, surveying the scene. 

"Sawyer!" a voice calls out amongst the noise.

Maggie looks up and sees Alex. Alex, dressed in full black ops tactical gear. Beside her are a crew of armed DEO agents making their way up the steps towards the building. 

Even from several yards away, Maggie can see Alex's surprise at her presence. She quickly moves across the quad to Maggie's side. 

"What are you-" she starts before noticing the sight of Maggie's blood soaked hands and arms, the red fluid staining her shirt. "Oh my god, Maggie, what happened?" 

Alex reaches out her hand to Maggie's arm, touching it gently, looking for cuts or wounds, a source of bleeding. Her face is panicked, eyes wide with concern. 

"Are you okay?" 

Alex's hand lingers on Maggie's arm, and Maggie feels her body tense at the touch. 

Maggie looks from Alex's hand on her and up to meet her gaze again. Alex's eyes are filled with concern. It's arresting. Maggie finds herself without a quip or a playful dig to tease Alex for caring. Because, for some reason, she does.

"Yeah, yeah, it's, um, it's not mine..." Maggie tells her. 

Alex's breathing finally slows, and her face relaxes. 

"There's three on the scene, but I think they're just lookouts," Maggie explains, gesturing back to the building. "I think a fourth was in back."

"In back doing what?" Alex wonders. 

"Felt like a bank robbery, the same coordination."

"They must be taking something from the lab."

Maggie nods in agreement. 

Alex's walkie crackles as a voice comes though. 

_Danvers, come in. They escaped through the side. Do you copy?_

She lifts it to her mouth. "Copy that. Thought we had the place surrounded."

_Too late. We're gonna canvass._

"I'll be right behind you," Alex states before replacing the walkie on her waist. She turns back to Maggie. "You should get out of here. We got this."

"No, I'll come with you," Maggie insists. 

Danvers shakes her head. "You're off duty," she says, gesturing to Maggie's civilian clothes. "You don't even have a vest," she adds, turning to go. 

"Danvers," Maggie pleads, reaching her hand out to catch Alex's arm. Alex turns back, and Maggie's hand lingers. 

"Maggie, please," Alex replies, and something about the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes, the way her first name comes off her lips, makes Maggie relent. 

She nods and lets her hand drop, watching as Alex turns and makes her way to the building. Maggie takes a deep breath and turns around. She looks up towards the place she parked a block away and sees Tara, standing no more than 10 feet away. Her eyes are on Maggie, and she isn't sure how long Tara has been standing there. How long she's been watching. 

Maggie moves quickly to her. "I told you to stay in the car. It's not safe." 

Maggie reaches out for Tara's hand, but she moves it away from reach, turning around to head back to the car. 

\---

The ride home is solemn, quiet. It surprises Maggie. She was bracing for the onslaught, for the stern lecture on not running straight into danger, for the shouting match about heeding to being off duty when they're together, but it never comes. With only a few words spoken, they abandon plans for dinner, and Maggie drops off Tara and heads home to wash up. 

\---

In the shower, the blood washes off her skin in streaks of red. She thinks of the the scene, of the terrified civilians, of the young woman's bleeding gunshot wound, of the man sprawled dead on the cold tile floor, and she bangs a fist against the shower wall.

It's only a few minutes later that she's dressed again, gun in her holster, badge on her hip, and heading for the door to hunt down a lead. 

\---

"What do you know?" Maggie demands. It's nearly 3am, and she's starting to grow weary from the night. After shaking down nearly every contact, she finally had gotten a tip.

"Nothing," the alien insists, backing away. 

"When you lie, your scales stand on end," Maggie replies, closing the gap between. 

"Why should I care about helping humans?"

"So whatever this is about, it's directed at humans."

"I didn't say that."

Maggie backs him up against a wall. "Yes, you did," she says, staring him down. "And I'm being nice because we have a mutual friend, but this can get _very_ unfriendly, _very_ quickly."

"Okay, okay, fine," the alien replies, lifting his hands and conceding. 

"Let's hear it."

\---

"I'm gonna put you on speaker," Alex tells her.

It's just after 4am, and Maggie is back at the precinct. After briefing her lieutenant, her first call is to Danvers to update her. Maggie knows it's late, but she also knows by now that the DEO, and especially Alex, never sleeps on a case. 

"He said that they wanted revenge," Maggie explains. "That they wanted every human to know what it was like that be different, to be feared. He said that he heard them say this would change them. Change... _us_."

"What does that mean?" Maggie hears a female voice ask. Supergirl maybe, but she's not sure.

"Forensics said they took Caesium from the lab," she hears Alex reply. 

"That's it!" a male voice exclaims. 

"What's it?" another male responds, his voice a bit deeper. 

"They needed a radioactive source," the first male voice explains. "They're making a -"

"Dirty bomb," Alex finishes. "One strong enough to mutate humans."

Soon, Alex is going on in her Alex way about radioactive dispersion and isotopes and thermoelectric generators, and Maggie doesn't really understand any of it except that they need to stop it. 

\---

The sun is already up when Maggie finally makes it back home. She's changing into sweats when her phone buzzes. Maggie reaches for it quickly, wondering if it's already Alex with the next lead, thinking, _that was fast_.

 _We should talk_. It's Tara. 

_Sure_. Maggie sighs as she types her response. It's not that she doesn't care, she does, but this, the impending fight she knows that awaits her is the last thing she wants to think about with what is brewing. Yet, she can tell by Tara's word choice that it's not up for discussion. 

_Tonight? Your place?_

_Okay._

_I'll see you at 8._

Maggie tosses her phone on the nightstand and crawls into bed. Her alarm is set for three hours later. There's no time for a full night's rest. 

\---

Maggie is back at the precinct by noon, pouring over the alien amnesty registry, and even as she knows it could be the quickest way to identify these guys, it feels wrong. Aliens, categorized by planet of origin, skin color, defining physical features, powers, just like a criminal database. Except these aliens on the list, thousands of them, didn't do anything to deserve didn't do anything to deserve being catalogued. She starts to understand just why so many aliens were against this. How this could lead to the backlash they were facing now. 

After a few hours, Maggie abandons the effort. It's fruitless. Maybe these guys didn't even register. Or maybe they registered elsewhere, another city, another state. It would take far too long to do a nationwide database search, and they were running out of time. 

\---

"So Danvers, burning question," Maggie says with a smirk. 

It's after dark, and Maggie sits in the passenger seat of Alex's unmarked black DEO suburban near the abandoned factories by the old harbor. They've been staked out near the address Alex's fellow agent had tracked down, something about isotope residue and tracers or something Maggie didn't bother trying to make sense of. It's been quiet so far, no movement, no signs of life. The coffee Alex arrived with when she picked Maggie up is empty now and the effects already wearing off. 

Alex looks over at Maggie, eyes lifted in curiosity, face a little wary as if bracing for what Maggie might ask. 

"Why are you spending your Saturday night on a stakeout instead of on a hot date?" Maggie inquires. "Must have been another agent free."

"Hot date? I don't even remember what that is," Alex replies sardonically. 

Maggie scoffs. "Oh please."

"What?" Alex asks innocently.

Maggie takes in the sight of Alex, those soft brown eyes and the way her auburn hair is falling over her left cheek. Even with the outline of dark circles forming under her eyes from the sleepless night, Maggie thinks, _there's no way_.

"You gotta be kidding," Maggie replies in disbelief. 

"I'm not," Alex insists with a laugh. "I haven't been on a date in at least a year. Unless you count that awful thing with Maxwell Lord."

"Maxwell Lord? Wow, you've got some terrible taste, Danvers," she says, flashing Alex a look of disgust. Though she's never met Lord in person, his reputation of smarmy arrogance and narcissism precedes him.

"What? No, it wasn't really a date. It was a setup." Alex fumbles awkwardly with her words. "But not like a date setup, I mean, like DEO setup, so we could get him away from Lord Technologies. 

"So even your dates are work-related."

"I just, I never have time." Alex shrugs. "I'm always working... watching out for Kara, making sure she's not...getting into trouble. And I don't know, I hadn't really met anyone that I... that I wanted to spend my Saturday nights with, I guess.

"Guess you're stuck with me then, huh?"

"I've had worse company on Saturday nights."

"Aw, shucks, Danvers. You getting sentimental?"

"No," Alex insists and Maggie swears she can see her cheeks flush. "Is it a cop thing to make everything sound like an interrogation?"

"Well, Danvers, I don't usually get complaints as long as I bring out the handcuffs," Maggie replies with a suggestive wink. 

Alex nearly chokes on her coffee, coughing, and then looking over at Maggie shaking her head, an embarrassed grin. And Maggie just laughs. 

After a few moments, their laughter quiets, but Maggie finds her eyes still on Alex. The look on Alex's face is more serious now, contemplative. Maggie feels a hitch of panic rise up in her chest. She feels frozen in place, she can't move her gaze. 

Suddenly, the faint sound of metal against metal draws both their eyes.

"Show time," Alex says, reaching for her gun.

\---

What happens next is practically a blur, a barrage of gunfire and fisticuffs. They converge with the cavalry on the warehouse, Supergirl leading the attack. 

Throughout it all, out of the corner of her eye, Maggie is always aware of Alex, knowing she will be at her back in an instant if she needs her. But Alex doesn't. She's swift and strong and she handles herself easily, and Maggie tells herself not to worry because obviously Alex can hold her own. She tells herself not to care so much, but she _does_. 

\---

It's late when Alex finally drops Maggie back off at her place, and she can feel the fatigue and the aches setting in. She makes her way into her building, heading up the stairs to her unit, where she unlocks her door and pushes it open. Her brow furrows when she notices the lights on. She doesn't remember leaving them like that. It's then that she spots a figure standing by the window, unmistakeable blonde hair, a glass of scotch in her hand, something Maggie knows she detests.

"Tara?" Maggie calls out as she drops her things on the kitchen table. 

Tara spins around. "Where have you been?" she demands, shaking her head. Her eyes looks red, like maybe she's been crying. 

Maggie's face falls at the realization. "Shit. I completely forgot. I'm so sorry. We were doing a stakeout."

Tara crosses her arms. "Who's we?"

"What?"

"Were you with that woman?" 

“Danvers? It's a joint case, Tara.”

"She's got you on a tight leash," Tara spits back. 

Maggie feels her anger rising. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

"It means I can't get you to respond to my texts all goddamn day. You forget our plans, you run off me on me in the middle of dates, but her? When she calls, you go running."

"When I'm working, I focus on work," Maggie retorts. "And this? This was work."

"Are you sure that's all you want it to be?" Tara accuses sharply. 

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Mags. What's going on with her?"

"Nothing!" Maggie insists. "Why are you getting so worked up about this?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You're being irrational," Maggie adds dismissively. She's exhausted, she doesn't have time for this, she's barely awake and her entire body aches from the fight.

"Wow," Tara replies in disbelief. "I'm worried my girlfriend has feelings for someone else and you call me irrational?" Tara shakes her head. "You are so insensitive."

"I told you more than once that there is nothing going on," Maggie shouts. "This is work. Nothing else."

“You know, everything with you is about work," Tara says, finally moving across the room towards Maggie. "You're so hard-headed, you don't even see what you're doing. You're obsessed." Tara reaches for the NCPD badge from Maggie's waist and flashes it in front of Maggie's face. "This badge means more to you than I do."

“That badge is my life," Maggie responds, grabbing it from Tara's hand. "You knew that getting into this." 

“Seriously? What kind of borderline sociopath throws their relationship away for a job?" 

"One with people's lives in their hands," she replies bitterly. 

"It doesn't always have to be you. You could choose us sometimes. Me," Tara says, her voice almost a plea, tears filling her eyes. 

"This isn't personal, okay?" Maggie begs, her voice softer now. "Please, don't make this about us."

"It is about us. I'm so stupid. I thought maybe you just needed more time, but it's never gonna change."

"Tara, please."

Tara shakes her head, wiping away the tears now falling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I just can't anymore. I'm done, Maggie."

"You don't mean that.” Maggie reaches for Tara's hands, but she moves away. 

“I do," Tara says more resolutely. 

“Come on. Don't do this."

“Don’t you see? I’m not the one doing this, Maggie.”

“Can't we just talk about this?" 

“You want to talk, Maggie?” Tara scoffs, shaking her head. “Now you want to talk? It’s too late.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want me to say?”

“I just... I can't, okay? I can’t keep pretending like this isn’t hurting me. I can’t keep pretending like someday you're gonna feel the same way I feel. I can’t do this."

"Tara. Don't. Please.”

Tara puts her hand up to stop her from coming any closer. "I don't want to see you anymore, Maggie," she says calmly, firmly.

Tara moves to the door, reaching out and pulling it open. She looks back one more time at Maggie. 

"You know, that badge isn't going to keep you warm at night," she tells her before walking out. 

It's not until the door slams shut and the apartment goes quiet, that the realization sets in for Maggie. That it finally hits her. 

That's it's over.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn, last night was perfect. Seriously. I think I actually died. And I almost decided never to write a single word again because there was just so much amazingness that was actually CANON, that this will never do them justice, but gah, oh well...

Tara was right about one thing. Truth is, she was probably right about a lot of things. But the one that stuck out now was that the badge wasn't a good bed companion, Maggie thought to herself as she threw back another finger of whiskey. 

She had ended the night early with Alex. She hadn't wanted to tell her, almost didn't tell her, spent the whole night throwing back beers and _not_ telling her. Pretending that everything was fine. That she was just fine. She was so good, she almost convinced herself. 

But when she finally did tell her, it made it feel real all over again. And Maggie couldn't handle Alex's kindness, her concern. Maggie didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to analyze it, and she didn't want someone trying to reassure her that it wasn't her fault. How many times did that excuse work before you start accepting that it probably is you.

Maggie collapses on the couch, setting the bottle of scotch down on the coffee table. She's crying silently now. She lifts her glass and downs the amber liquid. She feels its effect starts to settle in, start to dull her senses, dull the ache inside her chest, and she's grateful.

\---

"The usual, dear?"

It's two nights later. Maggie sits on a stool at the bar at the Factory. It's Saturday night, and the place is crowded with women, the hard bass reverberating through the building. 

Jackie, a tall older brunette with cropped hair who has been tending bar there as long as Maggie has been frequenting, leans over the counter, arms folded.

Maggie nods. "Make it a strong one."

It's been a while since she's been back here. Tara always preferred a quiet night in or a romantic dinner, and Maggie appreciated that. It was her first try at domesticity, and it had felt good. But tonight, tonight Maggie needed noise and she needed people and she needed something to drown out the constant rumination of what happened and what she should have done differently and maybe it just wasn't meant to be or maybe she just fucked up a really good thing and what if she'd just been better it wouldn't have ended. She wouldn't be alone. Again. 

Jackie returns with a whiskey sour and slides it across the counter to Maggie. She takes a swig. 

Jackie lingers in front of her. "Heard you and the lady split," she comments. 

Maggie shakes her head and rolls her eyes. 

"Jesus, that was fast. Can't keep anything out of the grapevine," she remarks scornfully. 

"You haven't learned that yet, dear? You're lucky we didn't know before you did."

Just then, Maggie's phone lights up and she looks down and sees a text from Danvers. It's about the latest case that's popped up. A group of humans with alien weaponry wreaking havoc. Tracking them had so far been unsuccessful. 

She sends a text back letting Alex know she'll see if there are any murmurs with her contacts of weapons trafficking to humans. 

"Who's the new girl?" Jackie asks, breaking Maggie's attention from her phone.

"Huh?" she wonders, looking up confused. 

"You always got a new one," Jackie says, motioning to the phone. "Sometimes before you're even done with the old one."

"Oh come on, Jack, lay off," Maggie begs. She doesn't need this tonight. "Darla and I were never serious." And it's the truth. They were friends at first. Then friends with benefits. Then starting to maybe be a little more than friends until Tara walked on the scene. And now they were everything but friends.

"Just calling it how I see it."

Maggie scoffs. "There's no girl," she insists, shaking her head. 

She thought she was done having this conversation, this argument. That there is nothing, absolutely nothing, going on with Alex Danvers.

Nothing but friendship and fighting evil and mutual respect and maybe some admiration, because yeah, Alex Danvers is pretty fucking incredible, but what she isn't is into Maggie. 

"Yeah? Then who you texting, Sawyer?" Jackie teases playfully, leaning over to try to get a glimpse of Maggie's phone. 

Maggie looks back at her phone, waiting for a reply from Danvers that never comes, before slipping her phone away. 

"It's work," she replies.

"Uh huh." Jackie raises her brow in doubt, but let's it go, moving on to another customer. 

Maggie takes another sip and turns on the stool to face the packed room, her eyes scanning the place. The stop when they meet a pair looking back at her. A woman, standing at a high table amidst a group of friends. She has dirty blonde hair that falls in curls over her shoulders. When Maggie's eyes meet hers, she smiles, looks away for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Maggie's again.

"Want another?" Jackie asks when she returns, noting Maggie's empty glass. 

Maggie nods. "Make it two."

A moment later, Maggie crosses the room to the blonde, who has lingered at the table while her friends returned to the dance floor, introducing herself and offering the glass to her. 

It takes a second for Maggie to realize why she seems so familiar, that she reminds Maggie of someone from long ago. Ten years and counting. 

On the surface, they had been nothing alike. Maggie was a bit of a drifter at 16. She had friends, sure, a couple close ones even, but she didn't belong to any group at Blue Springs High, didn't quite fit into one specific clique. 

Katie had been tall and blonde and popular. Captain of the volleyball team. Homecoming queen. She had lived in a big house in the nice part of town. Not Maggie's town of course, there was no nice parts of her town. But two towns over where the rich families lived. No one even knew she and Maggie had ever met. They first found each other online and talked for two weeks before they ever laid eyes on each other. 

Over time, Maggie had learned that things only seemed perfect for Katie. On the inside was a different story. Her mom had passed years ago, her father was constantly absent. And then there was their shared secret, the one that would make them both pariahs in rural Nebraska. 

They'd take drives in Maggie's pickup until they were far from civilization, park off road in a corn field, and kiss past curfew, whispering tiny romances in each other's ears, safe from judging eyes. They had fallen in love over secret meetings and late night phone calls. 

Until one misstep. 

_I can't, Maggie. I just- I can't do this anymore._

Katie's father had found them in her bed. Naked. Tangled up. They had known that they only had a few hours before he was to come home. A few hours to make love. Katie had wanted their first time to be perfect. To be romantic. To be in a real bed. 

They'd fallen asleep. They had woken to shouting. He threw Maggie out of the house, quite literally. 

They never saw each other again. 

Katie's call had come late that night, her voice a hushed whisper like it always was when she called Maggie after dark from her closet so her dad wouldn't hear them.

 _It's over,_ she had said. _Over._

 _Magda, what's wrong? Mija, talk to me,_ Maggie's mother had asked when she found her daughter in her bed at day break, face red, still crying, wrapping her in her arms. 

That's when her mother found out, when Maggie finally told her, between crushing sobs. Maggie wondered if it softened the blow, her being a defeated heartbroken mess. Maggie had always thought they would kick her out, call her a disgrace. They were, after all, devout Catholics. 

After that day, Maggie waited, bracing herself for the moment. But it didn't happen, and eventually, in time, Maggie finally stopped holding her breath. 

And then when Maggie started telling others, when people around town started finding out, when the whispers made it all the way back to Maggie's parents, it was they who came to her defense. They lost friends. They became outcasts. But it didn't matter to them.

Her mother would tell her, _Nadie hace daño a mi hija._

_No one hurts my daughter._

_Except herself,_ Maggie thinks derisively as she downs the last swig of her whiskey sour, sets down the glass, and takes the woman's hand, leading her to the dance floor.

Amidst the loud music and flashing lights, her body pressed against the other woman's, their hips moving together... For just a little while, Maggie forgets what it feels like to be alone. 

\---

Maggie returns home late after the bar closes. She drops her keys onto the table by the door and flicks on the light. She's just shy of drunk, and she stumbles a little taking off her boots and curses under her breath. 

She crossed to the couch and sprawls out, staring up at the ceiling. The silence is overwhelming and the loneliness gradually starts settling into her heart again, reminding her of its presence. She feels the tears coming again, welling up behind her eyelids and she closes them, trying to will them away. 

Without thinking, she reaches for her phone and makes a call. As it starts ringing, she suddenly has second thoughts. She goes to hang up when she hears her voice. 

"Hello?" Alex answers groggily, and the sound of her voice eases the ache in Maggie's chest just a little, just enough. "Maggie?" Alex adds, when she doesn't hear a response right away. 

"Yeah, hey, Danvers. You still up?" Maggie asks casually, and even she is surprised at how she can hide the pain rushing through her from seeping into her voice. 

"Sure, yeah, I can be," Alex replies sweetly, and Maggie can almost hear the rustle of sheets and knows Alex is sitting up in bed, Alex is turning on the light, Alex is pretending she wasn't fast asleep. 

"Sorry, that's- stupid question," Maggie replies apologetically. 

There's a long beat of silence, and Maggie knows she should say something because she is the one that called Alex like there was something to be said, but now Maggie realizes she didn't really have anything to say, nothing that she can really say aloud. 

"Are you okay?" Alex finally asks. 

"No, yeah, I'm good," Maggie replies insistently. "Just couldn't sleep. Thinking... a lot."

"She's an idiot, okay?" Alex tells her without missing a beat. "She's missing out. Any woman would be lucky to be with you."

And even though she didn't call for this, this sympathy, it feels good to have someone make her feel like she's not a hard-headed sociopath, to have Alex tell her that maybe she's worth something. 

"I think the lucky women are the ones who dodged the bullet," she says derisively. " _This_ bullet."

"I think you're wrong about yourself." 

Maggie tears up at Alex's words, but she doesn't dare let Alex know. "You barely know me, Danvers," she counters.

"I think you're wrong about that too."

"Maybe..." Maggie replies, her voice almost a whisper. 

"Want me to come over?" Alex offers, like it's no big deal, like it's not the middle of the night. 

_Yes,_ Maggie thinks. "No, it's okay," she says instead. "Just wanted to bother you," she quips. _And to hear your voice._

"You sure? I can bring whiskey and ice cream," Alex says cheerfully. "They go together better than you'd think."

Maggie laughs. _So do we..._ she thinks, before she has time to catch herself, before she lets the thought wander. 

_Don't be stupid, Maggie._

She just wants someone here, wants someone in her bed, and regardless how many straight girls she's taken there, she knows better. She knows better than to try to make Alex Danvers one of them, to destroy a friendship with someone who answers their phone when you call them at 3am, who will tell you it's your ex's fault even when it's surely not, who will even willingly trek across town in the dead of night to bring you ice cream. To ruin the one real thing she has right now.

And so she says _thanks, I'm good,_ even though she's not. Not at all. 

\---

When Maggie wakes the next morning, it's to a searing headache. She's hungover and nauseous and it's way too early, and for the first time in her life, she thinks about calling in sick. If only sitting in this empty apartment wasn't the worst possible alternative to getting out of bed. 

She moves to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. She thinks about her conversation with Danvers, 3am, drunk enough for it to be a blur, but not such a blur that she doesn't remember all the ridiculous thoughts that had gone through her head. Thank god she's had the wherewithal to keep her mouth shut. Maggie makes her way to the shower, discarding her clothes on the way. She grabs her phone off the night stand, and only then does she see the text message waiting for her. 

_I'm here, you know, day or night, if you ever want to talk._

It's Alex. No doubt a delayed reply to Maggie's profuse apologies for disturbing her sleep just before they got off the phone a mere four hours ago. A reminder that she's there. That's she gonna be there. And it's enough to make the day feel like it might be bearable. 

\---

"Seriously? Anti-gravity guns? You gotta be fucking kidding me," Maggie had lamented with an incredulous laugh as her lieutenant handed her the file on the most recent act of terrorism. "Never a dull day."

Now she was down at the crime scene, overseeing the forensics team and gathering first hand accounts. There's not much to go on, nondescript humans with otherworldly weapons whose only goal seemed to be to wreck havoc. And of course, just when she's thinking they could use the DEO on this, she sees Alex sauntering towards her, soon rattling off scientific terms like the massive endearing nerd that she is, and Maggie finds herself smiling for the first time since, well, her last encounter with Alex Danvers. And it feels good.

A few moments later, they are back at the squad car, and Alex has suggested almost half a dozen ways to distract Maggie from the the gaping hole in her chest, but after the previous night, after drinking herself halfway to oblivion, it's not what she's feeling up for right now.

But Alex doesn't stop. And soon she's talking about _the two of them_ and _having fun_ and _keeping each other company,_ and all of a sudden, Maggie feels like she must be hearing things because it doesn't sound just like Alex being a good friend anymore. 

Maggie eyes narrow, peering at Alex questioningly. 

"You and me?"

 _Is this really happening?_ she wonders in disbelief. Alex propositioning what sounded very much like finding comfort in the bottom of a bottle and between the sheets of Alex's bed. It couldn't be. I mean, they had chemistry. That was obvious. But Alex didn't...she wasn't.... Right? Danvers was straight. This was friendly. Platonic. And it's not like she could have ever missed something like this? About a woman she'd spent the last month discussing cases with, fighting criminals side by side with, mercilessly teasing just to make her flustered, playing pool and tossing back beers with. 

What if she'd gotten it wrong though? Misread the signs? Misinterpreted things between them? What if Alex wasn't straight? Then what? What was this? What if there was more there? _What if?_

Maggie feels a thrill in her chest at the thought, the thought of Alex wanting her, and it surprises her. An image flashes in her mind. She and Alex tangled up in bed, Alex's lips on her neck, her cheeks flushed, those long legs wrapped around Maggie, Alex's ragged breathing, her name rolling off Alex's tongue. She feels a flash of searing heat surge through her body at the thought. 

"I think I read you wrong."

"What do you mean?" 

"I didn't know you were into girls," Maggie states with a suggestive smirk. 

And then Alex's eyes widen, shocked, almost horrified at Maggie's suggestion, right before she immediately backpedals, swiftly squashing any suggestion that this was anything but a friendly offer. 

"Oh. My bad." It hurts. Hurts more than Maggie would have ever expected.

She hears Alex tell her "no offense," which only adds insult to injury. 

"I get it, you're not gay," Maggie retorts, trying to sound like she never cared either way. Like her hopes hadn't suddenly risen like a tidal wave inside of her heart, only to be crushed. 

And then she adds a joke, trying to lighten things and temper her own bruised ego at the rejection, but Maggie regrets it almost as soon as she says it. As soon as she sees the look of panic spread across Alex's face. And the volumes it speaks. 

Maggie had swiftly corrected her misstep, but suddenly, she wasn't so convinced that's what this was. Because now all it sudden, it makes sense. All of it. The way Alex would tense up at Maggie's flirting. How her voice would trail off sometimes before she finished her thought. The way Alex's eyes always lingered on her when it grew quiet. Why the silence always felt so heavy. 

And now that's it's crystallizing, she suddenly wonders how she missed all the signs. How she could have been this oblivious.

Right then, she realizes that what was meant to be a lighthearted joke had just put words to what had been lingering beneath the surface all along, to something that Alex clearly hasn't dealt with. And Maggie feels like an asshole for being so terribly blunt and insensitive. Her heart sinks at the realization. _What has she done?_

"Sorry. I just thought you were angling towards something," she says, trying to rectify things.

"I'll let you know when we make some progress," Alex replies curtly before hurrying off.

"Shit," Maggie mutters under her breath. She shakes her head, realizing she just completely fucked up, like usual. 

_Way to go, Maggie,_ she thinks to herself. _Twice in one week._


	6. Chapter 6

It's earlier than usual when Maggie arrives to the bar. Most nights when she swings by, it's late, the end of a long day, when she just needs a drink to unwind. But this time, it's just after sunset. Because it was just after sunset when she finished filing the report, finished signing off on the death of three men in her custody. Just after sunset when her lieutenant told her to scram and take the rest of the night off, because no one is used to seeing what she just saw, and the truth is, she's still seeing it, replaying every moment of it in her head. 

So now she standing outside the nondescript entrance just after sunset. She rasps her knuckles on the door and calls out, "Al Capone" (the door code changes from time to time), and it opens to let her in. 

Inside, it's dark, and there's a low buzz of noise filling the space. Different species of aliens mingle throughout the room, and Maggie nods hello to a few of the regulars as she makes her way to the bar. 

"What can I get you, Mags?" Darla asks as she wipes down the counter with a cloth. 

"Tequila," Maggie breathes, with a little desperation in her voice. 

"Straight up?"

Maggie nods and Darla returns with a shot glass and a bottle of tequila, pouring the liquid gold and sliding the glass across the table. 

Maggie shoots it down quickly before dropping the glass back down on the table with a clink. 

"Gonna need a few more than that," Maggie remarks cynically. 

Darla raises her brow and eyes Maggie, eyes her dark circles and forlorn expression with a satisfied smirk, like she is a little happy knowing Maggie must have gotten what was coming. 

Maggie's not surprised. Their relationship ended even more quickly than it started. Maggie had pulled away abruptly when Tara had entered the picture. Maggie knew that if she tried to keep things up, only pain would come of if. With Darla being a Roltikken, she would have known immediately that something had changed. Every kiss would reveal Maggie's growing connection with Tara. She wouldn't have been able to keep any secrets. And so Maggie had made a bunch of cheap excuses that were obviously lies, but without her touch, Darla could never prove it. And it ended. 

Maggie had tried to keep her friendship, but Darla just offered civility, a little passive aggression here and there. Maggie knew she'd hurt her, so right now, she isn't surprised to see Darla gloating at her obvious comeuppance.

"Grab a seat. I'll bring it over."

Maggie nods and makes her way to a table in the back, pulling herself onto the bar stool and setting her elbows on the gritty wood surface, taking a deep breath, letting the week's events set in. 

The truth is, Maggie doesn't want to be here right now. Not at all. She wants to be at home, in the quiet, where she can drink herself numb, and no one will be there to witness it. She wants to suffer through her pain in privacy. 

Except that right now, Tara is letting herself into Maggie's apartment. She had texted to ask if she could drop off a few of Maggie's things, drop off the key, make the last move to sever all ties and remove the other's existence from each of their lives. Tara didn't want Maggie there, not that Maggie felt any differently. But after this day, this week, it felt like salt in an all too fresh wound that it was happening already.

Darla comes by moments later with a trio of shots glasses and the bottle of tequila. She sets the glasses down in a row and does a quick pour. Maggie's head doesn't lift, avoiding Darla's.

"Never used to have to ask you what was wrong," Darla remarks, in a slight teasing tone, and it's tough to tell if she's being sympathetic or simply ironic.

Maggie finally raises her eyes to Darla, and for a moment, she laments that Darla is right. Maggie is good at a lot of things, but putting words to her feelings isn't usually one of them. It was the advantage of their relationship, really the base of it, that they could communicate without speaking. It seemed like the perfect situation for Maggie at first, until she gradually came to realize that knowing someone's thoughts didn't always mean understanding, didn't always mean recognition, didn't always mean you fit together. It often led to more quarrels than connections. 

"You don't have to pretend you want to." Maggie replies sardonically, and for a brief second, it looks like Darla is maybe about to genuinely ask before she just shrugs, before she turns and heads back to the bar, to her more amiable patrons, and Maggie breathes a sigh of relief at the reprieve. 

Maggie gulps down the first shot, feeling the burn in the back of her throat, as flashes keep returning to her mind of today's events. Of her perps, status post interrogations, handcuffed, mid-move from the precinct to county lockup. The most routine sort of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until their screams, until the blood hemorrhaging from their ears, their lifeless bodies dropping to the ground, convulsing. 

Maggie remembers the first time she saw someone die, the first time she saw the light flicker out in their eyes and their final shallow gasping breath. It was her second week as a beat cop, years ago, but it feels like a lifetime now. They were responding to a domestic dispute, and they got there a moment too late. They were breaking down the door just as the shots fired. The other cops secured the scene, but Maggie rushed straight to the woman's side. She pulled her into her arms, shouting for someone to call a bus, as blood seeped out of her chest. The woman coughed and it was nothing but blood, blood drowning her lungs. Maggie whispered to her to hang in there, to stay with her, _stay with me_. It was already too late by the time the ambulance arrived. By then, the scene was quiet, still, Maggie still holding the woman in her arms, the woman's blood soaking her blue uniform. A few feet away, the woman's little boy, no more than 4, stood watching. 

It stayed with her. She'd always been told that first death would be a make or break you moment. Many turned in their badge after faced with the reality of the job. For Maggie, it solidified everything. Her purpose. Her drive. 

But this was like nothing she had ever seen. Not as a beat cop, not during her stint on vice, her days filled with addicts and OD's, and not even as a science detective. It shook her. Reminded her how much power lay out there that they were nothing if not helpless to. 

And right now, all she felt was overwhelmingly helpless. 

Helpless, not only because of perps dying in her custody, or Tara rummaging through her apartment, but then there was Alex...

_Oh, Alex..._ Maggie thinks. And just as her thoughts start racing, she hears a voice, _her_ voice, here, asking if she's okay. 

"Wait, what are you doing here?" Maggie wonders, brow furrowed with surprise. 

"I was worried about you," Alex tells her warmly. 

_About me?_ Maggie thinks incredulously. After everything that happened between them this afternoon, Alex was the one worrying about _her_?

Maggie hasn't tried to contact her after what happened. She could tell Alex needed to process, but what Maggie hadn't expected was how much she needed to as well. 

The realization had hit Maggie like a ton of bricks, left her shaky and overwhelmed and almost paralyzed. She didn't understand how she couldn't have seen what was happening.

So all day, Maggie had been going back over it all in her head on repeat, analyzing every encounter. Every conversation. Every quip over beer, every text message, every lingering look, every nervous laugh.

Behind it all, this whole time, Alex was feeling something, at least starting to feel something, something she'd somehow kept under the rug for a lifetime, that Maggie had brought to the surface. 

And now... now Maggie doesn't know exactly where to go from here. 

Because now Alex is across from her, stumbling over her words. Sweet, sweet Alex with her shaking voice and her terror-filled eyes and her wavering resolve who can't get herself to say it, to speak it out loud, to utter _that one word_. To name it. 

Maggie wants to reach out, reach her hand across the table, squeeze Alex's hand, tell her it's going to be okay, that she will figure this out and the world isn't ending, that it's just beginning, but she can't. It would be too confusing. And if she's honest, not just for Alex. These feelings that have been building, that crept up on Maggie, that she hadn't quite been fully aware of until she realized that they might be returned...

These feelings for Alex...

But she can't...she knows she can't.

Alex is kind and good and pure and blameless, and she doesn't deserve to be sullied with the mess that is Maggie Sawyer. 

Maggie is broken, and not just in a fresh breakup, heartache kind of way. And maybe Alex could be an easy fix, a temporary band-aid on her pain, but she doesn't deserve that. 

Besides, Alex has a lot to figure out still, and Maggie, who has felt alone since she moved to National City 3 years ago, finally has someone that gives two shits about her, and she doesn't want to fuck that up. And maybe, just maybe, Maggie could make something good of this, find a way to redeem herself of all her mistakes, all her screw-ups, all the broken hearts and hurt she's caused. Maybe she could do right by someone. For once. 

\---

Later that night, Maggie turns the key in the latch and pushes open the door to her apartment. She is relieved to find the place dark, quiet, empty. She had a slight fear that Tara would still be there, still collecting her things, still lingering perhaps for a final fight. And right now, Maggie is a little drunk and more than a little on edge, and nothing good would have come out of that encounter. 

But she flicks on the light, and there's no trace of her, nothing save a small cardboard box of items on her coffee table. Maggie considers leaving it for another day, but the masochist inside her drops her keys on the table by the door, kicks off her shoes, and makes her way at to the couch. She lifts the box and dumps its contents out. 

The first thing to tumble out with a loud clink is her spare key attached to a Lego police officer keychain that she'd bought when she had the key made. Something to make Tara laugh. It had worked. It was the first time she'd gotten that far with someone, especially that quickly. 

Then there's her Red Nebraska huskers sweatshirt. The one she got at 17 on her college visit when she realized she might finally get out of Blue Springs, out of that hostile suffocating small town, the first time she could see that maybe things could get better. It's the same worn threads that Tara had slid into on their third date to a movie in the park, when she had forgotten her own and found herself shivering after the sun went down. Maggie didn't ask for it back afterwards. She liked seeing Tara in it, when she'd pull it on during a lazy Sunday afternoon on the couch. 

There's a couple shirts Maggie had forgotten after sleeping over. A pair of yoga pants. Some gold earrings. 

And a piece of paper. It's nothing fancy, just a sheet of lined paper taken from a standard school notepad, folded in half.

Maggie unfolds it carefully, cautiously, like she's handling a bomb she doesn't want to accidentally set off. 

_Mags,_

_I am trying my best not to be angry as I write this. I am trying even harder not to cry. It wasn't fair the things I said to you, and I'm sorry for that. I felt you slipping away, and I was trying to hold on for the both of us. I wasn't ready for it to end, but I couldn't stand giving my heart to someone whose heart wasn't all in this. I don't know what you're looking for, Mags, but I hope, whatever it is, you find it_

_-T_

Maggie is already crying when she sets the letter down. She lies down on the sofa and let's the tears fall silently. She pulls a blanket over her body and cries herself to exhaustion. 

\---

The next morning, Maggie oversleeps. She wakes to sunlight bursting through her window instead of her usual blaring alarm clock and begins cursing under her breath immediately. She pulls herself off the sofa where she had fallen asleep without setting an alarm and races to the bedroom where she throws on a fresh pair of clothes, pulls her hair into a ponytail, and doesn't even bother with makeup.

She strolls into the precinct exactly 30 minutes later and exactly 90 minutes late. 

"Rough night, Sawyer?" a fellow detective pokes fun with a laugh at the sight of her unmade face. 

"Bite me," she hits back, despite knowing that he's right, knowing that her fatigued gait and her blood-shot eyes and puffy face are an easy show of the ache inside her. 

She moves through the array of desks until she finds hers. She takes a seat, ready to get started on tracking leads for whoever killed her perps, and just as importantly, how. 

"Told you to take the night off, not the next morning too," a deep voice rasps in a sarcastic tone. 

Maggie looks up to see her lieutenant, gruff face and wide shoulders, looking down on her, but he's not angry. . 

"Sorry, lieutenant," Maggie replies, shaking her head. "Won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it. Sick of paying you overtime anyway," he adds with a sympathetic smile. 

"Thanks, boss."

Maggie feels his presence lingering over her. "You okay, kid?" he finally inquires, noting Maggie's somber face and unusual stoicism. 

"Yeah, yeah. Just..." she breathes in deeply then releases a long sigh. "A lot this week."

Her lieutenant mods. "Haven't seen your pretty blonde around here in awhile. Anything to do with that?"

Maggie shrugs nonchalantly, trying to stomach all the pain that had come rushing back the night before. "Wasn't working," she says casually. 

"I liked that one. Quite the looker," he says with a smile. "All of yours are though, Sawyer. You gotta share your secret with me sometime."

Maggie laughs derisively. "Not sure you want to be getting relationship advice from me."

He motions to himself. "Divorce number three? I'll take it from anyone."

Maggie nods but still doesn't offer up a reply. 

"Keep your head up though, kid," he continues. "This too shall pass."

Maggie smiles, laughs a little finally. "Look at you with the motivational cliches, Lieutenant."

"It's all this old man's got left," he says with a wide smile before patting Maggie on the shoulder and heading towards his office. 

\---

Maggie spends her day in the field, tracking leads and interviewing contacts. It helps to distract her from everything. From her empty apartment. From Tara's goodbye letter. From Danvers' confession. 

When she returns home that evening, both feel like looming anxieties. A piece of her wants to pick up the phone and call Tara. Apologize. Tell her she made a mistake. Tell her to give them one more shot. But she can't. Because in the back of her mind, always, is Alex... 

Maggie wonders where she is, if she's at the DEO, if she's on a raid, if she's putting her life in danger. If she's at home, if she's up late contemplating a lifetime of denial. If she's hurting. If she's hopeful. If she's holding up. 

Days pass, and Maggie doesn't hear from  
Danvers. She reminds herself to let her take her time and that she'll turn up when she's ready to talk more. She doesn't want to push, she wants to let her process. 

Maggie remembers that experience all too well for herself. The slow, building realization about what she felt. About what she was. 

She remembers Bridget, her camp counselor when she was 8 years old, remembers her crystal blue eyes and sun-bleached waves, and how Maggie got goosebumps when the older girl would play with Maggie's long dark hair. 

She remembers at 11, making the 14up soccer team, and how she spent every bus ride to an away game trying to make Anna Cooper, the team star, laugh, just to hear the sound of it. 

And she remembers how freshman year of high school, her next door neighbor, a senior, Greg Garrett, would drive her to school every day and talk about his crush on Maren Dobbins, about the smell of her hair and her smile and the way she made him feel high every time he was with her, and how it was then that it finally hit Maggie that that was exactly how she felt about girls too. 

But Alex isn't 8, she's not 11 or 14, and that's what makes Maggie ache for her. That she could shove this down so deep, for so long. That she could bury this piece of her that she's now slowing uncovering. 

So Maggie waits...

\---

Maggie is amidst a solo pool match at the bar one night when Danvers finally shows. 

Alex is nervous and smiling and filled with cautious excitement spattered with nerves, and she needs Maggie to tell her it's all going to be okay. 

And so Maggie does. She does just that. 

Maggie assures her. Assures her that coming out will be met with love and open arms and acceptance. 

She doesn't tell her how sometimes bravery comes with whispers behind your back and lost friendships and heartache. The worst kind of heartache. But that's not what Alex needs to hear. 

Because right now, Alex looks light and happy and free and exhilarated, and who is Maggie to take that away, to warn her of the other side of coming out, to tear her down when she is this high off the ground.

So Maggie comforts and she encourages and she fans that flicker of hope in Alex's eyes. 

And because ensue finds herself caring more about Alex Danvers that she ever thought possible, she hopes upon hope that she's not wrong...

\---

Maggie lingers. She can't help herself. It scares her to admit it that she is, but Alex, Alex Dancers, is kissing her. In the middle of the room in the middle of this bar, and Maggie is _lingering_ and closing her eyes, and for one brief second letting the moment take her away, letting herself enjoy the taste of Alex's lips, and the feeling of Alex's hands on her face. Alex kissing her with so much unabashed confidence. 

And it feels so goddamn right, but this, _this_ is wrong, she tells herself. 

What she feels doesn't matter. What she wants doesn't matter. What matters is that this can't happen. 

Because Maggie realizes in his moment, in this kiss, in Alex's arms, that Alex is doing this for her. For Maggie. To be with Maggie. 

And it's too much. 

The weight of those idealistic expectations placed squarely on Maggie's shoulders is far too much to carry. Maggie knows she would only disappoint Alex. And that was a best case scenario. In reality, Maggie usually left a wake of tears in her path. Tara hadn't been the only one to call Maggie on her shit. Emotionally unavailable, workaholic, self-absorbed. She's heard it before, and Maggie has accepted that they must be right. How else could you explain her long list of failed relationships. 

So this inevitably would only end in ruin.

But for a moment, she lingers. And she wishes. Wishes things were different. _If only_ things could be different. 

But they aren't. And so she pulls away before a moment too long, before it can start to mean something. Before there is no turning back at all. 

She makes things clear, let's Alex down easily, establishes boundaries, assures her she's gonna be a friend, she's gonna be the best goddamn friend she can be. Because this is better for both of them. 

But Alex body stiffens and her expression changes and she is taking a deep breath and she is turning and leaving. 

"Alex, don't go!" Maggie calls out, but she's already gone. 

And Maggie realizes maybe it's already too late to turn back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone still hanging in there for this journey. Sorry for the long delay between updates. Life's been cray.

11 days. It's been 11 days without one word from Alex Danvers. 

She isn't answering her calls. She isn't responding to her texts. She's not asking for help on cases. Offering to tag team on stake outs. None of that. 

Maggie had initially waited three days after that night to reach out. She sent a text. Something friendly and work-related. Something she thought would be benign. A peace offering that included a new case, an alien arms dealer. Besides, if there's anything Danvers wouldn't turn down, it'd be a new alien to hunt down. But there was no response. Nothing.

Maggie had waited another two days before sending a follow-up. It also went unanswered. 

By day 8, Maggie's mind is starting to race. Where's Alex? How is Alex? Does she have anyone to talk to? Has she come out to anyone else? Did it go badly? Or worse, after that night, did she manage to push Alex firmly back into the closet? 

It's day 8 when she finally decides to call. She gets Danvers’ voicemail and leaves a friendly quip about maybe Alex was swallowed into another dimension or teleported to another planet. She tried to hide the concern in her voice. 

After 10 days have passed, when Maggie calls another time, she finds Alex’s voicemail box full, and she wonders if maybe something _did_ happen, and she ponders showing up at the DEO, demanding to know that Alex Danvers is safe and in one piece.

__

__

On day 11, Maggie decides to call one last time before hopping on her bike and heading across town. No answer, but Alex's mailbox is no longer full. Which means she's alive and well. She’s checked her messages. She’s listened to Maggie's and clearly decided not to call back, not to send her a text, not to let her know she’s not captive on another planet or locked in an alien’s dungeon. 

It feels like confirmation of what Maggie has been fearing. Alex avoiding her. Alex pushing her away. Alex cutting her out. 

Because now it's been 11 days of silence... 

Not that she’s counting though, right? 

But she is. Because as much as she doesn't want to admit it, Maggie misses her. Misses her smirk and her sarcasm and her mix of self-deprecation and ego. Misses her all the way to her gut in a way she didn't think could be possible. But she does. Because somehow Alex Danvers has become a part of her life that she didn't know she needed. And it's terrifying. 

So Maggie decides to track her down, find a way to talk to her, explain, clear things up. Let her know that friends is the best thing that Maggie could ever be for her. Tell her that she'd screwed up so much in the past, dived in without weighing the cost, but that she wasn't going to make that mistake again, wasn't going to play around with Alex's feelings, wasn't going to screw things up like she'd done so many times with so many other people. She'd have to understand. It's not her. Not Alex. Alex was perfect, Alex was pure. Alex deserved everything. It’s Maggie. Fucked up, broken, unfixable Maggie. 

\---

When Maggie finally finds her, it's the last place she would have expected. 

The bar. Maggie's bar. Not that it belongs to her, not that she owns it, but it's her place, and Alex knows this. Knows Maggie well enough to know she could run into her here. Alex couldn't be avoiding her if she's here in this place.

Maggie had ended up here as the last stop of her day before heading home. After camping outside the DEO all afternoon, after driving by Alex's sister's place, after finding the address listed for Alex Danvers in the police database and pulling up across the street to see if she could figure out which unit was hers, if there was a light on. She even shoved her pride away and walked up to the call box and rang Unit 204, with no answer. 

Besides, it’s not stalking if you’re just trying to make sure someone’s alive. 

Only after all of this, tired, exasperated, regretful, downtrodden, does she arrive at the bar and make her way to the counter. 

Just after she calls out for a finger of bourbon from the Valeronian tending bar, she looks up and sees that unmistakable auburn mane across the room. She's surrounded by friends. She's just dropped another round of beers on the table and is swaggering back to her stool, her long lean body framed by fitted jeans and a leather jacket, making her appear even taller than she usually does. 

She looks carefree, like she's enjoying herself, like she's happy even, and Maggie realizes maybe Alex Danvers is just fine, without her. 

A moment later when the bartender returns with her glass, Maggie downs it in one easy swig. Her eyes move back to Alex and with a deep breath, she makes her way across the room.

\---

"Danvers!" She calls out, still a few paces away. 

Suddenly, the conversation stops and all eyes at the table turn to her immediately, all but Alex's. Danvers finishes a swig of her beer and sets it down, pausing before finally turning her head. 

"Hey, it's been a hot minute. How are you?" Maggie asks, cautiously moving closer as Alex shifts her weight and rises from her seat. 

"Yeah. Good. Good, yeah," Danvers replies casually, her body language tempered. Maggie can't quite read the expression on her face, but Alex doesn't exactly seem upset or angry or heartbroken or even sad like Maggie had been expecting to find. 

Maggie takes another step forward, feeling a relief start to settle in. Alex introduces her to the table, finally ending on the woman to Alex’s left.

"And Kara..."

"Oh, the sister!" Maggie exclaims as she realizes she's finally come across the biggest person in Alex Danvers' life, the sun to her universe, her baby sis. The thing she cares about the most in this world. The key to understanding Alex. 

With blonde hair, bright blue eyes framed by dark glasses and a wardrobe straight out of a J. Crew catalogue, she’s the antithesis of Alex Danvers. She doesn’t share Alex’s angled jaw or sharp nose, her deep brown eyes or long neck. 

What Maggie does realize they do share, as Kara replies, all thinly veiled passive aggression, that she’s “heard all about Maggie too," is a fervent devotion to protect each other. 

And Maggie panics, wondering just how much Kara has heard, because if they are as close as Alex says, then she must, in fact, know everything, everything that's transpired between her and Alex, and she suddenly feels on display. A litany of excuses rise up inside her, but she knows it's not the time or place. 

Instead, she smiles nervously through her teeth and pulls Alex away. 

As they make their way to the bar, she awkwardly tries to make light of Alex's radio silence, and Alex casually shrugs it off. Nothing but work, just busy, as though Maggie shouldn't even have thought twice about it. It surprises her, this nonchalance. 

Finally, Maggie starts to broach the topic of the elephant sitting squarely between them, the thing she can't even get herself to name or else it might bring back the memory of it. 

But Alex seems unphased. 

She even tries to explain, but Alex just shrugs off Maggie’s concern, reassuring her that she gets it and everything is fine. It's so much so that Maggie starts wondering if she’s been the one overreacting, and the talk Maggie has rehearsed in her head a dozen times about why they should just be friends goes out the window.

"Still friends?" is all she asks instead, not only as a question but as an offering to wipe the slate clean, start over, confirm that all that complicated nonsense is in the past. That they can move on. That they can go back to how things were.

Alex smiles and nods. “Of course,” she adds with a nod, and Maggie's body finally relaxes as Alex excuses herself back to her friends. 

Relieved, Maggie drops a bill on the bar for her drink before making her way out to the parking lot where the cool night air hits her face. She pulls on her helmet and slides onto her Bonneville, telling herself she had obviously been overthinking this all. Alex says they're still friends. Why overanalyze it. 

Still, it doesn't explain the radio silence. Or the look Alex's sister gave her, like despite the nerdy glasses and perfect blonde locks and innocent face, she was just as lethal as her sister, and she'd show you if she needed to. 

\---

The Guardian video is on Maggie’s desk before she even arrives, giving her a new distraction of hunting down National City’s newest terror. She had thought of ringing Alex, to see if the DEO had any leads, if Supergirl had discovered Guardian’s true identify, if they know what other kills he might be planning, but something inside, something she can't explain, tells her to let it go. Besides, Guardian isn’t an alien. He’s human. A civilian gone rogue, so this was on her to handle. 

It’s getting late, and Maggie is still at her desk hours later weeding through leads being called in, when a fellow detective calls out her name. 

“Sawyer! You on this Guardian case?”

“What do you got?”

“Civilian working out by the docks pulling a late one just called, heard some commotion, gunshots. Ain’t that where the last murder went down?”

Maggie is on her feet in a split second, pulling on her jacket and reaching for her squad keys. 

“Tell Lieutenant I need backup.”

— 

"Shit," Maggie mutters in frustration as she holsters her gun. "I had him," she adds, shaking her head as she approaches her lieutenant. They had rolled up just after Guardian had escaped, a moment too late. 

"We'll get the bastard," he assures her.

Maggie nods and makes her way to the squad car. She slides into the driver's seat this time and pulls out her phone. The name she pulls up from her contacts feels automatic, natural. She doesn't even think before she types in the message. 

_Got anything on this Guardian menace?_

She hits send before dropping the phone on the consoles. 

Starting the car, she sees her cell light up.

Alex Danvers: _Afraid not. You working the case?_

It's quick and curt, but it's late. Danvers is probably in bed, or maybe still at the office working a different case, she could be out with another friend. Hell, she could be on a date for all Maggie knows. The thought is nauseating. 

_Squared off down at the docks. Bullets just bounced off him._

_And you?_

_Please, I'm bullet-proof too,_ Maggie jokes. She wants for a laugh or a retort in return, but nothing comes. Finally she adds, _No hits._

 _Good,_ is all Alex writes back. Maggie slides her phone away and shifts the car into reverse as forensics arrives to comb the scene. 

\---

The next day, after her news conference, she’s back at the precinct, parking the squad car and heading back in to follow-up on any new leads. After last night, after Guardian being just within reach and getting away, she has realized the DEO and all their heavy machinery may be just what she needs to bring this guy down. 

Before she gets a chance though, she hears Alex’s voice calling her name. 

"Danvers, I was just about to text you."

“I need you to lay off Guardian.”

“You mean National City’s masked serial killer? No way,” Maggie tells her incredulously. 

“He’s not a killer, Maggie. You’re targeting the wrong guy,” Alex answers stoically.

“Okay, I”m listening," she replies expectantly. 

But Alex won’t tell her anything, insisting it’s classified. Maggie almost laughs at the excuse. Their entire relationship has been based on them working together on quote on quote classified intel. Why would this be any different?

“Come on, Alex. We’re friends.”

Alex stops suddenly, turning to face her. Maggie’s smile disappears as she sees the cold look on Danvers' face. 

“No, Maggie. We’re not friends," Alex tells her sternly.

Maggie feels her stomach churn, feels her face grow hot. It’s the same feeling she gets when she’s in the throws of a police shootout, when the power has shifted and things aren’t looking good all of a sudden, when the bullets are flying, and she doesn’t know what’s about to happen next, doesn’t know if she’s going to make it out alive. It’s a panic she’s learned to quell, but this time, it doesn’t feel so easy to shove down. 

“Okay, I’m lost,” she says, trying to stay calm. “What happened?” she asks cautiously, unsure what what changed, what she did between two nights ago and now that has shifted Alex from reassuring her of their friendship to completely denying it altogether. 

But now, she regrets asking because now, now Alex is telling her. Telling her exactly what happened. Laying it out for her step by step. Explaining every single way that Maggie Sawyer has crossed her, hurt her, done her wrong. 

Maggie finds herself speechless. Alex's words, her eyes, her tone... it’s disarming.

Maggie always knew Alex Danvers wasn’t someone you ever wanted to cross. Knew that making her your enemy was anyone’s worst mistake, knew that her anger, her rage, once unleashed, could be a terrifying thing, but never once had Maggie considered what it might be like to have it turned on her. To have Alex Danvers cut you apart, put you in your place, to have every indiscretion laid out for you. 

Maggie tries finally to interject, to defend herself, to explain, but Alex doesn't let her. 

And all of a sudden, Maggie feels her worst fears being realized.

Alex is silencing her, laying down the law, telling her off. Yet, it's not those things in and of themselves, it's what it means. And what it means is that Alex is done. Done with this. Done with her. 

When Alex finally turns and walks away, it hits her like a ton of bricks.

 _This is what is feels like,_ she thinks. What it feels like to lose Alex Danvers. But the irony is that she never even had her to begin with.


	8. Chapter 8

Maggie's jaw clenches. Her face burns. Her eyes well up, and she's suddenly aware of how exposed she feels, standing in the center of the parking garage, amidst her fellow cops.

She swallows hard and drops her head to hide her face before moving quickly towards the precinct building. 

She holds her breath the entire way until she's practically lightheaded by the time she reaches the bathroom and ducks inside. It's empty. She finally breathes, slamming her fist against the wall. She can feel her skin sting, but she doesn't flinch. 

"Fuck," she mutters under her breath, shaking her head. 

She moves to a stall and slams the door closed, leaning back against the cement wall on one side. She reaches up to push her hair from her face, and it's then that she realizes her face is wet with tears. 

How could she be so stupid? she wonders. Thinking they could just get past what happened with some niceties. Maggie had convinced herself Alex would let this go easily, that she'd realize what she felt was just infatuation, just the newness, the shininess, and that it could be wiped away with a gentle letdown and a game of pool. It wasn’t the case. She realized that now. 

With Alex standing in front of her, a mix of anger and heartache, she knew she had been so wrong. Alex cares for her far more than she ever realized. Maybe more than anyone in this goddamn city ever has.

_Had._

Past tense, she reminds herself. 

And it was all her fault. Maggie had hurt her, terribly. Maybe irrevocably. 

_Get your shit together, Maggie._ She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. 

Let it go. It's done. She's done. 

Why do you even care so much...

You hardly know her.

She hardly knows you. 

She doesn't know you.

Not at all. Or she'd know better that to come knocking at Maggie Sawyer's door.

At Maggie Sawyer's heart.

She would know that all she'd ever find were broken pieces that could never be stitched back together. 

Maggie pushes the stall door open again and strides to the sink where she splashes cold water on her face. She dries her face with a paper towel and looks at her reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes and exhaustion.

_Get it together, Maggie._

She swallows hard, pushes her feelings back down into her gut, and reminds herself she has a murder to solve. 

\---

The day feels interminable.

Maggie spends it pouring over the cases trying to find some connection between the victims to lead her to Guardian's identify, but there are none. 

The only commonality is some run-ins with the law, overturned convictions.

Maybe a cop wanting justice, she thinks. Or a prosecutor. But she digs further and there's no connection between the cases. Different arresting officers, different precincts, different ADAs. 

After work, exasperated, Maggie heads straight to the gym and puts her fists into a punching bag. Inside, she does the same to herself, beating herself up. 

Despite her focus on the case, she keeps going back to that morning, keeps hearing Alex's voice in her head on repeat. 

_All I feel is pain..._ she said.

_All I feel is pain because you don't want me..._

But want... it's not about want...

Alex...in a black suit and high heels, the way she cocks her head, territorial, surveying a crime scene...

Alex... in all black, gun belt holstered around her hips, hands on her waist, barking orders at men twice her size...

Alex... tight jeans hugging her curves and a leather jacket, throwing a sharp uppercut at an alien who made the mistake of crossing her...

Alex... in a fitted blue dress, all long lean legs and stilettos, demure but still deadly... 

The thought sends heat through Maggie's body. Let's just say _want_ is not the problem. 

Because who wouldn't want Alex Danvers.

_Of course, I want you, Alex,_ she should have said. 

_Desperately._ She'd leave that part out. 

But want is dangerous. Want blinds you. Want makes you do things you'll regret. Things you can't take back.

Want would eventually lead to Alex Danvers hating her even more than she does now. If that's even possible. 

Maggie throws another punch at the bag then spins and kicks her leg up to connect another hit. 

_It was about my feelings..._ she keeps hearing Alex say. 

_My feelings for this amazing woman..._

_Amazing..._

She never expected to hear those words, not from Alex...

Lately, she'd been called a lot of things, but amazing was definitely not one of them. 

It didn't matter though. It was surely temporary. Pedestals always are. Eventually Maggie was fall off this one, as she always did, and Alex would see. That she was anything but amazing. It was just a matter of time. 

And when that time finally came, Maggie would never be able to handle being that to Alex... that disappointment, that letdown, that failure. Couldn't manage Alex realizing what Maggie knew all along, that Alex deserved better. 

Maggie's thoughts are finally shaken by the sound of her cell ringing. She wipes the sweat from her forehead before taking the phone off the holster on her bicep. 

It's Alex. 

"Sawyer."

\---

Maggie pulls up to the warehouse moments later. The ride over was quiet, Alex sitting beside her in the passenger seat. Maggie's eyes flashing over every few minutes, eyeing Alex's hand resting on her thigh, her lips pursing, trying to read the expression on her face, but Alex doesn't budge, her eyes locked out the window. 

To be honest, this is probably better, Maggie thinks to herself. When it came down to it, she knows she wouldn't be able to take meeting Alex's eyes, risk her seeing straight through her, risk feeling how Alex makes her feel when what she needs is to focus on apprehending a suspect. 

"I need you to trust me," Alex had said on the phone after explaining that she knew the murder suspect had moved on to his next victim and knew exactly where they were. And that Guardian was already there trying to save him. He was there to protect, not hurt. 

_Trust me._

Maggie could have said a lot of things in reply. She could have scoffed. _Trust._ A lot to ask of someone who's not your friend. 

Instead, she had said, "I'll be right there," before racing to her squad car and crossing town, lights and sirens blaring, to pull up to Danvers's apartment building, the one she pretends not to already know an address for when Alex tells it to her. Danvers is waiting outside in street clothes. 

It reminds Maggie that this is not a DEO matter. This is civilian. So why is Danvers getting involved at all? And if she's lecturing about trust, why doesn't she just trust Maggie to handle it? 

Maybe what Alex refuses to explain is that she knows exactly who Guardian is. But how?

As Maggie pulls into the warehouse garage, they can already see what's been unfolding right in front of them. Guardian is squaring off against another man in a bullet-proof suit. Maggie parks the squad car and steps out, pulling her firearm, moving in coordination with Alex, who is soon at her side, holding her weapon. 

Seconds later, Guardian makes a final blow and the man goes down. He turns to them with their guns raised and waits expectantly. The sirens of the backup Maggie had called on her way over are swiftly growing closer. 

She feels Danvers turn her eyes to her, staring, waiting.

"Those sirens are getting louder."

Maggie finally looks up. Her eyes meet Alex's. Brown pleading eyes begging Maggie to trust her. 

And Maggie remembers just how much she has missed this. This understanding. This recognition. This _trust._

Something Alex never had to ask for.

"Well then he better get out of here while he can," she answers as she holsters her gun and looks away, as she goes against everything she knows, letting a suspect go. 

Guardian disappears into the night just before backup pulls up behind her squad car. Another pair of cops pile out, and Maggie shouts for them to cuff the perp on the ground. 

She glances back up to Danvers. 

"Thank you," Alex mouths to her, before she backs away, moving in the same direction Guardian had left. 

Maggie squints her eyes suspiciously and knows it can't be a coincidence. 

\---

When Maggie slides into her squad care later after securing the scene, she's still thinking about it. Alex knows who Guardian is. She's sure of it. But how? He's not an alien. He's clearly not DEO, not a rogue agent or an escaped prisoner or there would be agents in black surrounding the warehouse. 

And if she knows and the DEO doesn't, then who else does know? Who else carries this secret? Does anyone? 

And if the answer is no one, is there anyone Alex can even share her secrets with? And what other ones is she carrying? Is her life anything but secrets?

And Maggie wonders just what that is like. How lonely that would feel.

And she starts to piece together that Alex letting Maggie in, to her life, to her world, couldn't have been easy. 

\---

Back at the precinct, Maggie trails behind the uniform leading their handcuffed perp in towards an interrogation room. She parts ways to swing past her desk where she drops her NCPD jacket and her keys. 

"Heard you lost your masked menace, Sawyer," a voice sneers, and Maggie looks up and sees a group of male detectives smirking. 

She rolls her eyes and turns to head back to the interrogation rooms when she runs into her lieutenant approaching her desk.

"Why don't you call it a night?" he offers sincerely.

"I'm fine, Lieu. Appreciate your concern, but I've got this." 

"You did good. I can take it from here. Give your report and get some sleep."

Maggie, feeling the fatigue setting in to her bones, gives in, nods, and strides the few steps back to her desk to grab her keys. 

"Should have left it to the big boys, honey," another detective nearby jeers, followed by laughs from the others. 

She shakes her head and bites back the retort waiting on her lips. 

She heads for the back entrance towards the parking garage. She reaches for her cell from her pocket, a mix of loneliness and desperation to hear her voice. 

She hopes that after tonight, after Alex reaching out for her help, after finally working together again after so many weeks apart, that Alex will let her back in. 

Still, Maggie is surprised when the call is answered on the first ring. 

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the line answers. It's not quite familiar. 

"Alex?" Maggie asks anyway, her voice unsure.

"Oh, oops," the voice says, and it finally hits Maggie that it's Kara, the sister. "Alex!" she hears Kara call out, muffled like from the phone being covered with her hand. "I thought this was mine."

"Why are you answering my phone?" 

Maggie recognizes Alex's voice faintly replying from across the room.

"It was an accident," Kara replies. 

"Who is it?" she hears Alex ask softly.

There's a pause. She doesn't hear Kara answer her question, but she can picture Kara turning the phone around, showing Alex the name, her name, on the caller ID.

"Oh," Alex replies. "I'm not here."

Maggie's heart sinks. 

She overhears fragments of the rest of their conversation. 

"What? Obviously you're-" Kara says to Alex, confused. Then a pause. Then Kara's voice returns, clearer. "Um, I'm sorry. Alex isn't here. I mean, she's not available. Can you call back later?"

"Kara," Alex says sternly in the background.

Kara fumbles with her words. "I mean, can you not call back later? Sorry, I have to go."

_Click._

Maggie's eyes fill with tears. She blinks then back and shoves her cell phone away, continuing the long walk to her bike. 

Moments later, in the dimly-lit, quiet parking garage, Maggie slides into her bike, and she keeps going over what happened to her and Alex, how they got here, how she'd managed to screw things up so badly. And she can't get the look of pain on Alex Danvers face that morning out of her mind. The pain that she had caused. Or that silence in the car, like a chasm had formed between them. Then the look that had passed between them, like words weren't even necessary, that she thought meant healing. She'd been so wrong though. 

Danvers didn't want to talk to her. Didn't want anything to do with Maggie anymore. 

Maggie feels herself coming apart at the seams. 

There is an ache in her chest, a gaping Alex Danvers-shaped hole, and she knows she has to do something. She has to fix this. She has to make things right, or she at least has to try. Because this thing between them is too big, it means to much. And she doesn't want Alex to be lonely. And truth is, she doesn't want to be either. 

\---

Maggie parks her car in the alley behind Kara's building and uses her badge to get another resident to let her inside. She checks the row of mailboxes and sees #4A: K. Danvers. 

She takes the stairs two at a time and then makes her way down the long hallway to the last door on the right. 

She pauses outside, suddenly aware of the pounding in her chest. This is it. Her last chance. She takes a deep breath and finally works up her nerve to lift her hand and raps lightly on the door. 

A moment later, the door swings open. 

It's Alex. Her eyes are wide with surprise. 

Maggie smiles slightly, out of nerves, trying to break the tension, but Danvers looks like she's ready for another stand off. 

"Hey," Alex says, her face blank and she steps into the hallway and closes the door behind her, refusing to let her in. So metaphorical. 

At least she didn't slam the door shut on her, Maggie reminds herself. 

"What are you, um..." Alex raises her brows. "What are you doing here?" she demands. 

Alex crosses her arms over her chest. She has a look on her face that could only be read as annoyance, borderline disdain, maybe even resentment. 

Maggie feels her nerves sharpen. This version of Alex Danvers is terrifying. She doesn't want Maggie here. Doesn't want to talk to her or see her and clearly them working together tonight didn't mean anything, didn't change anything. 

"I really need to talk to you," she pushes, pleading. "And if you give me two minutes of your time, I promise I'll get out of your hair."

Alex sighs. Her face remains hard. "Two minutes."

"I heard everything you said," Maggie says. _Everything you said about leading you on, about breaking your heart, about making you think coming out could be easy or that happy endings are real,_ she thinks. "I get it. And if you never want to talk to me again, I'll respect that. I'll disappear."

She takes a deep breath. "But I don't meet many people I care about, and I care about you... a lot," Maggie chokes out, pushing back the threat of tears that comes along with the fear that this last ditch effort may fail, that Alex Danvers may never want to see her again, and there'd be nothing she could do about it. "You've become really important to me. And I hope, one day, you and I could be friends. Because I don't want to imagine my life without you in it."

Maggie swallows hard, waits. Alex turns back towards the door, reaches for the knob. Hesitates. She turns back, her face softened, her anger dissipated. Maggie holds her breath, hopefully. 

"Pool. Tomorrow night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the comments and for sticking this one out. You all are truly the best.


End file.
